


Misdirection

by Raine_Wynd



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Established Relationship, Explicit Sex, F/M, Foul Language, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Other: See Story Notes, Polyamory, Post-Avengers (2012), Slow Build, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-03 07:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14564034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: Exiled to a cabin in the Olympic National Park, Clint, Natasha, and Steve must execute a rescue while changing their relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set about six months post-Avengers and ignores most canon established by the movies beyond that point. To a degree, I'm writing this as if I would have back in 2013, not knowing what was to come. Established Clint/Natasha relationship.
> 
> RE: location inaccuracies: I've been to Port Angeles and to the Olympic National Park, but if I've messed up something too much to be believable, please let me know. 
> 
> Thanks to Rhi for brainstorming. This was a plot bunny I posted a while ago, and is my 300th fan work on this archive.

“Home sweet home,” Clint said drily as he pulled the SUV to a stop in front of the Gothic-style cabin, located within the Olympic National Park. Once he had put the vehicle in park, Steve and Natasha exited it.

A quinjet had dropped them off at the Coast Guard Air Station in Port Angeles. From there, they had been issued the SUV, directions to the nearest grocery store and their new home, petty cash and a credit card for expenses, and the admonition they were to abide by all park regulations. The 800-square-foot, two-story, three-bedroom, one-and-half-bath cabin was a rare private property within the Olympic National Park. It sat on a large lake and had its own private dock. It also had its own standby generator, protected from the elements by its own weatherproof container. The location was deep within the park proper and therefore more than an hour’s drive away from the city of Port Angeles.

Surveying the cabin, Steve said, “At least it’s not a tent.”

Clint barked a laugh and popped the trunk. “True. Let’s check out the place, shall we?” He started unloading their bags, handing the right ones to Natasha and Steve before shutting the trunk. Natasha had the keys to the cabin, so she unlocked the front door. The cabin had a small porch with what looked like a former church pew sitting on the left-hand side of the porch and a stack of firewood under a tarp on the other side.

Inside, the cabin was laid out simply. The first floor living area, located on the left-hand side of the entry, doubled as a living room and dining room. A wood-burning fireplace occupied one wall of the living area. The stairs divided the floor. On the right-hand side of the room were the powder bath, kitchen, pantry, laundry closet, and master bedroom. A door from the kitchen led out to the patio, deck, and dock. The second floor of the cabin held the other two bedrooms, with the full bath at the top of the stairs. The cabin was furnished, as expected of a SHIELD safehouse. After a brief discussion, Steve opted to take the master bedroom. All the bedrooms had the same size beds, though the queen bed size took up most of the available space in the upper bedrooms. Clint opted for the left bedroom, which overlooked the forest side of the cabin; the right side overlooked the lake, which Natasha preferred.

It did not take Natasha, Clint, and Steve long to find that a trapdoor next to the dock led to an underground storage room. Reinforced concrete formed the walls.

“Nuclear fallout bunker,” Natasha said, looking around the room. “This was all set up once.” She pointed to the scuff and paint marks on the walls and on the floor. A four-shelf black galvanized steel shelving unit held three tiers full of jars of assorted pickles and bottles of wine. The bottom shelf held two shotguns, extra ammunition, and much to Clint’s delight, a hunter’s crossbow, and a full quiver of arrows.

“Do we trust the pickles or the wine?” Clint asked, dusting off one of the wine bottles. “Because this wine says it’s from 1965.”

Steve looked at the labeled and dated jars and winced at the waste of food. “I wouldn’t. The last date on these is older than you, Clint.”

“Guess that just means we have to go shopping,” Clint remarked, shrugging. “Because I don’t think we will leave here soon. Not if the last message we got from Maria Hill was ‘stay put and stay off grid until further notice.’”

“I still don’t understand why SHIELD doesn’t want us doing our jobs,” Steve replied. “We did what we were supposed to do in France: guard the scientist and his family and transport them to a safe house.”

“Yes, but someone with the power to pull strings got their pants in a twist,” Natasha answered him. “Chances are that scientist is a bigger piece in a chess board of politics. That leaves us with how we avoid going crazy, hungry, or so sick of each other we never want to be around each other ever again.”

“Road trip,” Clint said cheerfully. “I doubt the little store on the other side of the lake will have enough of what we need. If this is set up like most SHIELD safehouses, it lacks a lot of things.”

“Such as?”

Clint shot Steve a grin. “Enough toilet paper for three people and laundry detergent, for starters. I bet the boat shed has extra weapons and supplies to keep us warm and dry, but not a cooler so we can make a trip to the grocery store in Port Angeles.”

“I checked the refrigerator,” Natasha said. “We have milk, butter, eggs, and frozen vegetables. Looks like someone was here yesterday and dropped off food to last through the week. They also vacuumed and put clean linens on the beds.” She looked at Steve. “They didn’t account for your metabolism, so we will definitely have to restock food more frequently.”

“Any restrictions about hunting for food in a national park?” Steve wondered.

“We’re out of season for any deer or birds,” Clint said. “It’s February, so I doubt this time of year, we’ll find much game. Better we plan for a grocery run every week until we’re out of here.”

While Clint had been talking, Steve had been examining the walls. Frowning, he stopped in front of a section of wall that was a different color of plaster than the rest of it. Out of curiosity, he knocked on the wall, hearing a hollow echo behind it.

“This used to lead somewhere,” Steve noted.

Clint and Natasha exchanged looks. “To where?” Natasha asked.

“We don’t have tools to knock it down,” Clint pointed out.

“Maybe that’s why we’re here,” Steve suggested. “Think about it. If SHIELD wanted us to keep a low profile, there are other places they could have ordered us to go.”

Natasha frowned. “True. Remember the way they ordered us to stay out of trouble after Budapest, Clint?”

“Yeah, and then sent us on a similar mission to Tokyo,” Clint agreed. “All right. We’ll pick up some tools and see where this takes us.” To Steve, he said, “Unless you have some suggestion for knocking this down?”

“Can we get something low-explosive?”

Clint shook his head. “Even when they allow me to travel with most of my gear, SHIELD doesn’t let me travel with explosive arrows if they’re not warranted.”

Steve met his gaze. “But you know how to make them.”

Clint’s smile grew. “Why, Steve, whatever would make you think that?”

“Because you’re too good a sniper not to know how to improvise,” Steve replied. He looked at Natasha. “And you would never trust anyone who wasn’t prepared to do that.”

Natasha chuckled and acknowledged the point with a nod.

“Besides that,” Steve continued, “you both chose not to return your weapons to the armory and got permission to keep carrying them, which tells me neither of you thought this is a simple stand-down.”

“Maybe I’m paranoid,” Clint said, “but I don’t trust SHIELD not to take advantage of the three of us being where we are to have us act on something.”

“And what happens if we find this just leads to an abandoned mine tunnel?” Natasha asked, playing devil’s advocate.

“We buy plaster and wall it back up,” Steve said, shrugging. “Or we can leave it and see if we can find the other side some other way.”

“If we get a lock for the trapdoor, I’d feel more comfortable knocking down the wall,” Clint said. “No telling where this would lead. It could be miles.”

“Agreed.”

“We might find some equipment in the boat equipment locker,” Natasha suggested. “I have the key.”

The trio exited the bunker and went outside, where a shed stood to the left of the dock. The shed was just large enough for one person, so they played rock, paper, and scissors to see who would go in to check what it held. Immediately visible was a rowboat that hung from the rafters, its oars hanging from nearby hooks, and new-looking life vests. Clint won the game, so he squeezed in past the rowboat to check the back and side walls of the shed.

“Snow shovel; garden shears; a decent machete; an ax; the anchor for the rowboat; a lot of rope – probably for tying the boat to the dock; a rake; a ten-speed bicycle; and an electric lawn mower,” Clint called. “None of this looks like it’s been here forever, but it all looks used, so I’m guessing this cabin’s been in use fairly frequently. There’s a SHIELD rifle case and ammo in the corner here, covered by a tarp and a heavy quilt. Man, whoever set this shed up is a neat freak. Everything except the rifle and ammo has a designated place. Oh hey, you don’t fit with the rest of this gear.”

He emerged with a military-issue case. Steve and Natasha saw immediately it was labeled “for mining exploration use only.” Clint opened it to reveal a folding pickax and a shovel.

“Well, that’s better than nothing,” Steve said.

“Like I said earlier: road trip,” Clint agreed. He glanced at his watch. “Are we in any hurry to get started?”

Steve shook his head. “Tomorrow is soon enough. That was a long flight from D.C. I don’t know about you two, but I’m hungry.”

“Let’s backtrack to town,” Natasha suggested. “Get a meal at a restaurant and then pick up groceries and whatever else we need.”


	2. Chapter 2

Knocking down the wall in the bunker had taken them several days. Their exploration of the tunnel had dead-ended in another underground bunker, this one with no visible exit. Part of that bunker’s wall had collapsed, indicating it had not weathered the decades intact. Unwilling to risk their safety, Steve had opted to call their exploration to a halt.

“Maybe there are other tunnels around,” Clint suggested.

“Could be, but no telling where any of them are without a map,” Natasha said. “Given this is a national park, the government has a survey of where the known mines were.”

“We’ll check the library,” Steve said.

That too, had proved to be a dead end since all the known mine shafts had been blocked for safety. Weather and the need to not rouse too much suspicion from the park rangers had forced them to pause their exploration for other tunnels.

Natasha conversed with a local historian, who told her a legend of a tunnel that had once gone to a storage room in a phone company switching station. That had renewed their efforts. A half-mile away from the cabin, they found a trail that led down to the switching station and surmised the truth had mutated in the telling. Still, they were no closer to finding whatever SHIELD wanted them to find.

“Well, this sucks,” Clint noted a week later. Rain saturated the park, leaving small flood pools. He stared out the window at the storm. “Anyone bring waders?”

“I didn’t,” Steve replied. “How bad is it out there?”

“Bad enough we should check our firewood stash and see if we have enough fuel for the generator,” Clint told him. “We could lose power.”

“What does that mean for us?” Steve asked calmly from his position on the couch.

“We’re in radio silence unless we’re dying, Cap,” Clint told him sourly. “Bad enough we’re in a national park. It means cell reception doesn’t exist for miles. Satellite reception will be spotty with the tree cover. Even if we were to get in touch with SHIELD for more than our weekly check-in, all of us have extreme field experience. This place would have to be on fire before SHIELD helped us.”

Steve lifted an eyebrow at Clint’s assessment, though he conceded that between his war experience and whatever missions Clint and Natasha had been on before this, given their clearance levels, meant SHIELD had higher expectations for their survival abilities. Still, he wanted clarification. “Which means?”

“Means we’re on our own,” Natasha summarized. “SHIELD will expect us to cope with a power outage for however long it lasts.” She paused. “The good news is that I looked at the generator. It’s a newer unit with a gas line, which means it’ll kick in should the power go out and is fueled from the same lines that power the stove and the water heater.”

“Let’s hope it still works,” Steve said. Two hours later, the power flickered, and the sound of a running generator soon filled the air.

They soon discovered that the permanent backup generator was a godsend over the next few days. The torrential storm was soon accompanied by high winds that battered the cabin, leaving no doubt why the permanent generator had been installed.

“I feel like I’m in Tornado Alley,” Clint remarked, listening to the wind. “Not liking the sound out there.”

“Me neither,” Steve said. “Think we need to worry about tying down the SUV?”

Clint shook his head. “If the wind gets to be that strong, we’d better be in the bunker.”

Natasha stepped into the living room, carrying a small yellow box. “Good news: the trapdoor to the attic is in the room I’ve been using, and I found the emergency radio.” She handed it to Steve, who shook his head at the fact it was a hand-cranked device.

“Nice to know some tech doesn’t change,” he remarked. A few cranks activated the radio, which was tuned to a station that broadcast emergency information, including weather and road conditions.

Clint, Steve, and Natasha sat in the living room, listening to the detailed forecast, which sounded grim. Severe thunderstorms were forecasted for the park and vicinity, with the man on the radio urging people to avoid traveling unless necessary.

“If something’s happening here,” Natasha asked, “what do you think they’ll do it during this storm?”

“Be risky,” Steve said, “but it could be done.” He considered. “Problem is we don’t know precisely what we’re looking for. Could be someone’s using stolen Chitauri tech and figures no one would look for it. Could be something simpler.”

Natasha leaned forward. “You have any guesses?”

“Not sure,” Steve said, considering possibilities. “We’re in a national park. How many rangers are on duty? Probably not enough given what I’ve heard about government funding. What are their priorities?”

“Camper safety and preventing forest fires?” Natasha suggested.

“Every so often, the news reports on finding illegal marijuana plants in a national park,” Clint remarked as he rummaged in his coat pocket, coming up with plastic-wrapped bundle.

“Yes, but you wouldn’t send us for that,” Steve argued. “Not when you have the DEA. What would you send us to find?”

“Something that requires patience, charm, and –” Natasha thought aloud, “– tenacity to locate. We’ve assumed this house is the central point. So what if it’s not a tunnel?”

“That still leaves the trails,” Steve said as Clint returned to the side chair and unwrapped a deck of cards. “And the campgrounds and cabins. And if we’re playing poker, Clint, let’s agree not to involve any money.”

Clint shuffled the deck in his hands and cracked a grin. “What, you think the deck’s marked?”

Steve chuckled. “No. But between us, are you willing to bet this won’t get heated?”

Clint paused his shuffling and glanced at Natasha, who looked amused. She rose and grabbed a bag of pretzels and a bag of goldfish crackers from the snacks Clint had insisted they get when they had gone for a grocery run. “Let’s move this to the table,” she suggested. “Goldfish are $5; pretzels are $25.”

Steve had played countless card games with the Howling Commandos, mostly poker, blackjack, and gin rummy. He had forgotten what it was like to play against friends. Steve had expected not to read Natasha’s body language, given her skillset, and that a sniper like Clint would play for the long haul. What he had not expected was Natasha trying to flirt with him to distract him, or Clint being random in his bluffs.

“Now you’ve done it,” Clint said as Steve won a hand and took the pot of pretzels and goldfish crackers. “You perfect that innocent look with the Howling Commandos, Steve?”

Steve laughed. “No, with Bucky. He stopped buying it long before they did.”

Natasha took the deck; by agreement, they were taking turns shuffling and dealing the cards. “How much did you get cursed at before they figured it out?”

“Oh, a lot,” Steve said, feeling the pang of grief at knowing they were gone. “They said I should have come with a warning label.”

“No wonder you didn’t want to play for cash,” Clint said, shaking his head.

The storm blew itself out three days after it had started. Clint burst out of the cabin like he had been a caged bird, leaving Steve bewildered.

“He doesn’t handle closed-in spaces well for too long,” Natasha murmured, coming to stand next to Steve on the porch and watch Clint run down the path around the lake. “Which is wild considering he can lie still in a sniper’s perch for days.”

Steve acknowledged that dichotomy with a slight shrug. “I can handle a mission in winter conditions, but if it meant being locked down with no escape, I’d react the same way as Clint,” he admitted. “I don’t like being that cold anymore.”

Natasha offered an understanding smile. “We should pick up a few more quilts when we’re in the city. You’re allowed to be as warm as you need to be, Steve.”

“You don’t think we’re leaving soon.”

Natasha shook her head as Clint jogged back towards them. “I agree with you: something is here that doesn’t belong, and it isn’t us. We should check the campgrounds, get to know our neighbors. That’ll help us figure out what should and shouldn’t be here.”

Steve nodded. “Where do you want to start first?”

“The ranger station at the main park entrance and the store on the other side of the lake,” Natasha suggested. “They’d know if someone was new. Clint and I can handle that if you want to tackle the ranger station.”

“You don’t think letting them know I’m here is out of line with keeping a low profile?”

Natasha shook her head. “Play it as you’re just letting them know in case someone needs to get a hold of you since you’re on vacation.” She started to say more but stopped when Clint suddenly stopped running and bent down to check something on the ground.

Still crouched, the archer spun slowly to his right and looked across the lake. He rose, walked several feet at an angle away from the lake and towards the road. Clint disappeared a moment, leaving Steve to suspect he was following a trail. He then jogged back to where Natasha and Steve stood.

“Two people were here last night,” he told them. “Arrived by boat and ran up towards the road, judging from the path of their tracks. Mud’s just dry enough they must’ve been here very early.” Clint looked at Steve and Natasha. “One set of prints is likely someone wearing combat boots. The other’s someone barefoot.”

Steve frowned and started towards the road, but Clint stopped him. “I already looked. The footprints stop at the road, so someone was waiting for them.”

“This is an odd place for a pickup,” Natasha noted. “And the lake is big enough they could have come from anywhere on the other side.”

“Right,” Steve agreed. “If you and Clint check with the store, I’ll see what I can find out from the rangers.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previous chapters have been updated; this one won't make sense otherwise.

Three hours later, the trio regrouped at the cabin to discuss what they had learned. They sat at the table since they could look at the physical map of the park they had annotated.

“The rangers said they know this as the Treadway family property,” Steve began. “The senior ranger, Ranger Vaughn, said the Treadways have been renting the cabin for the last several years.”

“Probably to SHIELD,” Clint said.

Steve considered the notion. It made sense for an organization as big as SHIELD to have rental properties in a host of locations. Why this one, though, made no obvious sense to Steve, but he decided to ignore that line of thought in favor of focusing on their current situation. “The ranger I spoke to also said they like this time of year. They get less tourists than in summer, and the hikers and climbers who venture out are more experienced. The rangers said the trouble tends to be disasters requiring rescue of some kind where getting someone out is a more time-critical situation due to the winter conditions.”

“Anything about illegal marijuana plants?” Clint wondered.

“Ranger Vaughn looked surprised I’d ask, but I said I’d been reading old news reports, trying to catch up to current events,” Steve said. “He relaxed and waved it off like I’d told an ancient story. He said they hadn’t had any recent problems, especially since there’s talk of legalizing it here in this state. Didn’t sound like he or his partner thought there was really anything of concern. He was more impressed that I’d bother letting him know I was in the park. Said usually when a big-name celebrity comes to visit, he can tell by the security entourage.”

Clint chuckled. “Yeah, some of the celebs we have would never even bother to come out this way. Too much nature.” He looked at Steve. “They give you any problems other than that?”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “He asked me if what happened in New York was an elaborate movie staged to cover up 9/11 evidence or if there were really aliens invading Earth. His partner looked both stunned and furious he thought that and immediately apologized on his behalf.” Steve paused. “I heard her yelling at him as I left, saying she had an aunt trapped in one of the buildings and if he wanted to spout conspiracy nonsense, he had a better audience than Captain America.” He looked at Clint and Natasha. “I thought because everything was broadcasted live, nobody could believe it was a hoax?”

“Steve, there are people who think the moon landing is a hoax, and that the Holocaust didn’t happen,” Natasha noted dryly. “There is even speculation that the Captain America fighting in New York was an amazing lookalike found to bolster American propaganda despite SHIELD affirming that no, that was really you.”

Steve sighed and shook his head. He would never cease to be amazed at what people were willing to believe. “What did you find out?”

“The store owners said they were looking forward to being able to restock. Their shelves were bare – looked like everyone who braved the storm went there to get groceries. They said they were so busy, they closed early because they ran out of things to sell and wanted to get home to their property,” Natasha stated. “They said they buy most of their stuff from the warehouse store in Sequim.”

“Over an hour away by car,” Clint clarified. “They said they don’t order enough for the store to deliver to them this time of year. They seemed concerned they hadn’t seen us.”

“We told them we had stocked up before the weather hit,” Natasha said. “Which means we both hit dead ends.”

“Looks like it,” Steve agreed. “Did you figure out where the boat might’ve come from?”

Clint shook his head. “I checked a likely trajectory, but I struck out there. Figured you and I would paddle around the lake after lunch.”

Steve grimaced. The rowboat was not his favorite means of travel; he always felt like his weight caused the bow to sink lower in the water than it should.

“If they came out of the woods, they might have been smart enough to sweep their tracks on the other side,” Natasha pointed out. “And then ported their boat elsewhere.”

“Let’s hope they weren’t that smart,” Steve said. He traced a diagonal line across the map. “This where you thought they could be?” he asked Clint.

Clint nodded. “Adjusting for last night’s wind and any waves on the lake, that’s where I was thinking.”

Steve swore. He had seen how accurate Clint’s estimations were. If Clint had found nothing, the likelihood their afternoon sweep would find more evidence seemed unlikely. Still, it was worth the second look.

“What do you think someone would use this property for?” he asked Natasha as she rose to her feet and rummaged through the fridge.

“Too many possibilities, not enough data yet,” she replied. “Whoever was here could have just as well been thrown off course by the storm and meant to reach the boat launch by the store.”

Steve studied her. “You don’t believe that.”

“No,” she admitted candidly, “but since my stomach is growling, I can’t focus on anything other than what I want to eat.” She pulled out a jar of dill pickles, a jar of diced roasted peppers, two apples, and the bottle of mayonnaise. “I’m making chicken salad sandwiches. You want any?”

Both men nodded. “You want me to toast bread?” Steve asked.

“Sure,” Natasha said as she set the jars down on the counter and reached for a mixing bowl. She then reached into a cabinet and pulled out several cans of cooked chicken. In the two weeks they had been at the cabin, lunch had become something they could make easily, with dinner reserved as the meal on which they spent more effort. All three had cooking skills, limited by their knowledge of what to make and what they had in the fridge and pantry. Since they did not have a lot of room for fresh meat and vegetables, they tried to ration what they had, and had stocked a large selection of canned meats and vegetables. Steve’s metabolism meant he needed the most calories, which translated to an extra serving or two above what Natasha or Clint would eat. They had stocked up on various protein bars and snacks so he would not feel like he was taking too much away from Natasha and Clint. Whoever did not cook handled cleanup and dish duty, and they had agreed to take turns.

Now, Steve toasted enough bread for five sandwiches. The kitchen was just large enough for two people if one person did not mind stepping out of the way occasionally. Once he had stacked the toast on a plate within Natasha’s reach, he filled the hot water kettle with water and set it on the stove to brew. Natasha liked tea with her lunch; Clint shared it with her, dousing it with honey. Steve had found he liked the blend of tea Natasha had found; it was lightly sweet, malty, and fragrant, and tasted nothing like the tea his Irish mother had loved. He grabbed mugs, the tin of tea leaves, a strainer, and, once the water was hot, set it to steep.

“Here, make yourself useful,” Natasha said, handing the now-washed apples to Clint, a cutting board, and a knife.

Clint chuckled and made quick work of dicing the apples. “You just don’t like seeing me sitting here watching you work.”

“Because you stare,” Natasha said lightly.

“All the more to appreciate you, dear,” Clint said, grinning.

Natasha rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly.

Steve noted the movement and wondered if he was witnessing a casual flirtation between friends or if it meant something more. He had seen how close Natasha and Clint were; the level of trust they had in each other felt intimate. Though he knew it would not matter in combat, given what he had seen of their professionalism, he wanted to know for personal reasons. Silently, he told himself he should be content with their friendship and call it good.

Clint handed the board and knife back to Natasha, who dumped it into the mixing bowl with the chicken, mayonnaise, pickles, and peppers. She added black pepper and onion powder before mixing it all together. With deft hands, she made five sandwiches, cut them on the diagonal, and took one and half for herself, gave Clint one and a half, and the rest to Steve.

“Thought you were hungry,” Clint teased her as she sat down.

She bit into her sandwich as Steve poured tea for her and did not dignify Clint with an answer.

Amused, Steve put what he did not think he would eat onto a plate before sitting down. “If anyone’s still hungry.”

“What will you do while we’re out on the lake?” Clint wondered, looking at Natasha.

“Walk the property and see if we missed something. I’m not a detective but if this house has been used as a passthrough point, there has to be something to identify it in the dark from the rest of the forest,” Natasha said.

Hours later, they regrouped again at the table in the cabin. “Random chance?” Natasha suggested when they had concluded they had found nothing.

“Sure, but you put us here, and suddenly random chance become coincidence,” Steve noted. “I say we let it be for now and see if it happens again.”

“Agreed,” Clint said. “If SHIELD wanted us to find something definitive, they would have given us more information. Seems that someone is playing a long-ass hunch.”

Natasha sighed and nodded acceptance of the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: moving forward, in more ways than one. :-)


	4. Chapter 4

Two nights later, an unfamiliar sound woke Steve. Startled, he sat upright, trying to figure out the source of the noise. It sounded like a moan.

“Tasha, don’t – ah – don't tease,” Clint pleaded.

A low, pleased laugh met his words. “You like it,” Natasha told him, her voice husky.

Steve laid back down on his bed. They assumed he was too deep in sleep to hear. For once, he cursed his senses and his imagination. The creak of the bed springs made Steve realize Natasha must have been sucking Clint off, getting him ready so they could have sex. He heard the rustle of the sheets as Natasha moved around the bed where Clint lay and the slide and slap of skin against skin. Steve drew in a breath as the sounds of their lovemaking reached him, but it only added scent into the mix.

Steve swallowed hard. The smell of sex was as strong to him as if he was in the room with Natasha and Clint, and he closed his eyes briefly. Two months had passed since Steve had sex. She had been a one-night stand and uninterested in a relationship. Sex with strangers would never be as satisfying as sex with friends, and Steve was spoiled for the latter.

What would it be like to be with Natasha and Clint, to enjoy their hands on him, to show how much he loved being with a man and a woman at the same time? Would they be as tender and affectionate with him as he heard they were being with each other? Steve ached with want, listening to them.

“Damn you, don’t – ah, god, right there, so close, damn it, Clint–”

“Turnabout’s fair play,” Clint told her, smug. “God, Tasha, you feel so good like this. Love seeing you like this. Yeah, that’s it, babe, let go. I’ve got you.”

Steve imagined the other man using his knowledge of what Natasha liked to get her to fall apart in his hands. It made Steve want to experience those things too. He wondered if Clint liked men, if Clint and Natasha would share, or if –

With another deep breath, Steve forced himself to focus on getting back to sleep. Playing what-if was a fruitless exercise. They were with each other. By choosing to have sex when they assumed he would not hear, they did not want him to know. He would respect that choice.

* * *

By habit, Steve woke at five AM. He wallowed in the warmth of the bed for a few minutes before rising and changing into the sweats he wore for running. Steve was grateful for the half bath so he could avoid going upstairs. The moment he looked at Natasha or Clint, they would recognize he had heard them. He only fooled people who did not know him well. A run around the lake would set his resolve to treat their relationship as if nothing had changed.

Yet the desire to head upstairs, to ask questions he had no business asking, lingered. Steve had spent years wanting things he could not have – better health, more money, love he did not have to be ashamed of because others perceived it as perverse and deviant. This was just one more thing to add to the list. He would get through it. Steve did not want to lose Clint and Natasha as friends. He was certain they would be scandalized if he made his desires known. It was not wartime; no one had the specter of death hanging over them to justify a polyamorous relationship. Steve was better off sticking to the script that Captain America had loved Peggy Carter and was therefore heterosexual. He was not bisexual and had never known the touch of another man or shared a lover with a friend.

* * *

From her position at the top of the stairs, Natasha watched Steve leave and read tension in the set of his shoulders. She leaned farther down the stairs just to be sure and shook her head. Most mornings, Steve left the cabin as if going to run was part of his wakeup routine. Today, his body language said he had a bad night. Suspecting the cause, Natasha sighed in resignation. It had been too much to hope Steve would not notice she and Clint were lovers. Natasha was not ashamed of her relationship, but she was aware most American men frowned on fraternization between combat partners. She needed someone in her life who saw her rather than a tool to wield, and Clint was that person for her. Moving to Clint’s room, she nudged him awake.

“Whaa?” he asked groggily.

“Steve heard us last night,” Natasha said, sitting on the bed. “You were too loud.”

Clint wiped his face with one hand and sat up. Unlike Natasha, who had dressed for the day, he was still naked. Only the sheet covered his lower half. He took a moment to process what Natasha said, and then his face fell.

“Well, shit. How do you want to play this?”

“Not going to lie or hide it,” Natasha told him. “It’s a small house. He is observant and not an idiot. He trusted my assessment of you after Loki, and the time we’ve spent with him since only reinforces my impression of him. If asked, he would be discreet.”

Clint stared at her, his eyes narrowing. “That’s not the only thing you’ve figured out. What did you notice, Natasha?”

Natasha met Clint’s gaze unflinchingly. “He’s lonely. No one’s held him.”

“You want me to fix this? I’ve hugged him. He likes hugs. Not offended or standoffish about them at all.”

Natasha favored him with a ‘stop being obtuse’ look. “That’s not what I meant.”

Sighing, Clint muttered, “And here I was hoping we would take advantage of Steve’s half hour run to do something fun like last night.” He got out of bed and kept talking as he dressed. “If you want him, go ahead. I’m not ready to test the theory he rescued 400 soldiers just to save his best friend and lover, ergo Steve is bisexual.”

“When will you have a better chance?” Natasha asked calmly.

Clint pulled his shirt down over his head and looked at his lover, combat partner, and best friend. She saw things he glossed over as unimportant; they made a good pair because they complemented each other. “We will fuck this up if we don’t go slowly,” he warned her. “And speaking for myself, I’d rather not lose Steve’s friendship.”

“Agreed,” Natasha said.

“One more thing: you sure you want to do this? Because I’m sure as it stands now, if something happens to either of us, I’m not sure anyone would be able to hold him back from doing something incredibly heroic to save us. You want to add sex and love into that? Because he won’t buy your ‘love is for children’ any more than I do.”

Natasha considered the new angle. Steve was a force onto himself. The only way to stop him from a set course involving a friend or loved one short of death was likely tranquilization or someone who was extremely articulate as to why ignoring that situation would be better for the good of something else. Few people in Natasha’s life were that committed.

“How would that be a bad thing? We are already weaknesses for him. The depth of it does not matter. You’ve seen how he fights for us and tries to ensure we are not overburdened with responsibilities.”

Clint lifted his head. “And you want to see if he appreciates you in bed as much as he does out of it,” Clint surmised.

“And you don’t?”

With a laugh, Clint said, “It’s a factor, but it’s not the only one. I agree with you: he’s lonely and needs people he can have sex with who aren’t going to turn around and try to use the experience for their own gain.”

“You’ve been thinking about this,” Natasha noted. “Were my intentions the only objection you had?”

“Yes. I didn’t think you wanted to do this as a tag team exercise.”

Natasha grinned. “Why not? He might believe us more readily if we did.”

Shaking his head, Clint moved to the bed to press a brief kiss to her lips. “You will be the death of me someday, Natasha.”

“Not today,” she countered and rose. “Come stretch on the dock with me.”

“Now you really will be,” Clint teased her, but grabbed a pair of towels from the bathroom to use instead of yoga mats before following her out of the cabin.

They were fifteen minutes into their workout when Steve passed them by, waved, and headed into the cabin. Clint glanced at Natasha as she moved to warrior pose and he mirrored her. “He doesn’t seem bothered by us.”

“It’s a starting point,” she agreed.

They timed their workout to conclude several minutes after Steve usually finished showering to give the ancient water heater time to recharge. Natasha looked at Clint. “You are not hiding out in the shower. You make the explanations.”

Clint stuck his tongue out at her but accepted his duty. Clint let Natasha call dibs on the shower while he went to go get a drink. Steve was in the kitchen and had started the coffee and the hot water pot, which told Clint the other man was treating the morning as if it were any previous morning. Steve was also putting together what looked like a batter.

“Pancakes?” Clint asked casually as he poured coffee into a mug.

Steve jumped, as if he had been focused so much on what he was doing he had not noticed Clint stepping into the kitchen. He took a breath and Clint hid a smile at his nerves.

“Yea – yeah,” Steve stuttered. He took another breath and straightened his shoulders. “Do you think we have enough room to cook together if you handle the bacon?”

Clint studied the room in front of the stove, measured Steve’s width with a look, and shook his head. “Not at the stove. You'll have to nuke the bacon if you want it to be done the same time without dirtying another pan.”

“If you tell me how to cook the bacon in the microwave, I can do it while I wait to flip the pancakes,” Steve bargained.

After Clint explained the technique, silence fell while Steve focused on cooking the pancakes and bacon. When the first batch was done and stacked on a plate, Steve turned to Clint and asked, “How long have you and Natasha been together?”

“Four years,” Clint replied. “We’ve been teamed together for six years now. Natasha and I have an open relationship, partly because of the things she often is called upon to do with her skillset. The other reasons are I’m bisexual, and I tend to need more than one person can handle. Natasha and I have firm rules about safe sex and communication, so we don’t get paranoid or jealous.”

Steve froze momentarily and set the plate he had used for the bacon down on the counter with exaggerated care. He looked at Clint as he asked, “Do you love her?”

“She doesn’t like me saying it much, but yeah. And I still think cheating on your partner is a shitty thing to do, especially if you claim to be polyamorous and preach about how that kind of relationship only works when you communicate.” Disgust filled Clint’s voice as he added, “I’ve met people who think polyamory is a synonym for ‘I can fuck whoever I want to and not tell my primary partner, ha ha ha.’ I don’t play that game.”

To Clint’s surprise, Steve seemed to relax at his words, lending credence to the notion Peggy Carter was not the only person Steve had loved.

Steve carefully poured batter onto the two-burner flat grill he was using to start the second batch of pancakes. Once those were started, he passed the platter of finished pancakes and bacon to Clint, who set it down on the table. “Most people would get jealous in that situation,” Steve noted.

“And you didn’t?” Clint asked, needing to confirm his theory.

Steve’s ears tinged red. “It never occurred to me I should. Not until, well, after I woke up in this century and realized what I couldn’t say.”

“Did SHIELD give you a briefing on modern culture?” Clint asked.

“Yes,” Steve said, and passed a plate and utensils to Clint. “They assumed I might have some period-typical reactions to modern lifestyles and wanted to be sure I didn’t say anything embarrassing or wrong.” He grimaced at the memory. “One of the more awkward hours of my life.”

“Because you aren’t like many of your peers in your thinking?” Clint surmised.

Nodding, Steve checked the pancakes. “I got flak in the war for having the people on my team that I did; I wasn’t ignorant of the racism and sexism. I was actually offended SHIELD thought I might be like some of the idiots I dealt with in the war.”

Satisfied by that answer, Clint asked, “Is that why you haven’t taken Natasha up on her efforts to match you up with someone? You’re looking for more than one person? Or at least one person to match up to what you had?”

Steve flipped pancakes before answering. “Yes. And well, SHIELD has kept me busy.” He glanced at the doorway to the kitchen. “Natasha, if you have questions to ask me, ask them.”

“How did you manage to be with both Agent Carter and Sgt. Barnes?” she asked, stepping forward slightly.

“Planning, sometimes not our own,” Steve admitted. “I don’t know how the Howlies figured it out, but they did. Peggy told me they told her after everything I had done for them, it was the least they could do.” He met Natasha’s gaze. “How they kept that out of my files when it was such a poorly kept secret –”

“Peggy Carter started SHIELD with Howard Stark,” Natasha interrupted. “She had access to make sure you didn’t get tarred and feathered in your surmised demise.”

Looking like he should have realized that likelihood sooner, Steve lifted his head in understanding. He continued to stack and cook pancakes until he had finished the batter.

“Wait, Peggy Carter’s still alive?” Clint asked, surprised.

Steve grimaced. “Yes, but she has Alzheimer’s disease.”

“I’m sorry,” Clint sympathized. Reading the grief in Steve’s body language, Clint changed the subject to their plans for the day. Flirting with the man could wait. Given Clint did not have to hide his relationship with Natasha or his bisexuality, he could be more open about what he wanted from Steve. Clint was a sniper; patience was nothing more than practice for his breathing. He glanced at Natasha when she came in to take her share of pancakes and saw she agreed with his assessment that now was not the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, speculation on where this goes next, kudos, and constructive criticism welcome. I love hearing from my readers!
> 
> Next chapter should be up this weekend.


	5. Chapter 5

As usual, Steve rose at 0500, got dressed, and ran around the lake. He saw Clint a half hour later, going around the lake the other way. Clint had claimed if he ran in a direction opposite Steve, then it would feel less like he was trying to catch up to him. Steve did not take Clint’s excuse as an insult; he knew – because the Howling Commandos had reminded him – that he ran faster than most people. This way, too, he could finish his shower in time to allow the ancient water heater to regenerate for Clint. Natasha was not a runner, though she had joined Clint and Steve in walking the trails and had taught Steve some of the more complicated yoga exercises he had seen her practice when the coldness of the rain had meant he had cut his run short.

Feeling more awake and hoping today was the day they got permission from SHIELD to return home, Steve headed back to the cabin. As he expected given the morning was chill but not cold, Natasha stood on the porch, sipping coffee.

“Have a good run?”

“Good enough,” Steve told her. “Any word from SHIELD?”

Natasha shook her head. “Not yet. I’ll try again after breakfast, when the sky’s clearer and we have a better chance of getting a signal through.”

Steve nodded and headed inside, moving towards the first-floor bedroom he had claimed as his. The full bath was upstairs, between the other two bedrooms, while the half-bath was across from the kitchen on the first floor. Steve grabbed a change of clothes and moved to take his shower. After his shower, he headed back downstairs and dumped his dirty laundry onto the pile he had created in a corner of the room, noting as he did so it was time to do laundry. He grimaced at the thought; he had long ago learned to hate doing laundry by hand in a bathtub. Clint had repaired the cabin’s small laundry unit, which sat in a closet between the powder bath and the kitchen, and get it running, but everyone agreed its best use was for cleaning underwear and socks. Any larger caused too many problems.

Telling himself laundry could wait, Steve made his bed, then moved to the kitchen. The cabin had come furnished and supplied, including linens, kitchen appliances, and cookware. Steve did a quick inventory of what they had available, considered his appetite, and decided a trip across the lake was worth finishing the carton of eggs, the last of the fresh vegetables, and the bread. Judging by the morning, sun was in the forecast, at least for a while.

Natasha came in as he was plating his share of the frittata he had made. Steve took a seat at the table as Clint entered the house.

“Smells great,” Clint said, wandering over to see what it was. “Save me a piece?”

Steve nodded, and Clint flashed him a smile that went instantly through Steve. Steve bent over his food to hide his reaction as Clint walked away, but he could feel Natasha taking notes.

She poured herself a cup of coffee as the sound of the shower running upstairs echoed through the small house. “You should ask him,” she said, sipping her coffee as she took a seat at the table. “Being gay or bisexual won’t get you arrested most places. Most people are more accepting nowadays of alternative lifestyles.”

Startled, Steve looked at her. “SHIELD gave me the briefing on modern cultural norms so I wouldn’t say something stupid,” he replied, “but I don’t interfere with existing relationships.”

Natasha smiled and leaned back in her chair, looking as though he had confirmed a theory. “We don’t put restrictions on who we see,” she told him. “Like Clint said yesterday, he and I are friends first, lovers second. We’re free to be with other people as long as we’re upfront about it and practice safe sex. I won’t have hurt feelings if you choose him.”

Caught off guard by her blunt acceptance and invitation, Steve said nothing. Too many possibilities were running through his head. He needed to get on firm ground if he wanted to go for what he wanted. Natasha saw too much and leapt to frighteningly accurate conclusions.

Natasha leaned forward intently. “When’s the last time you kissed anyone, 1942?” She studied him a moment and asked, “Or is it you want both of us?”

Steve lifted a piece of frittata and ate it slowly. It seemed too incredible that he could have precisely what he wanted. All he had to do was say yes. Needing a moment to regain his equilibrium, he focused on something simpler.

“You going to eat anything this morning?” he countered.

“Ate the last of the yogurt while you out,” she told him, sitting back in her chair. Her expression looked satisfied, as if she had figured out something that had been bugging her. “Figured you’d want the eggs.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Are you afraid I’d respect you less if we fucked?” Natasha asked. “It wouldn’t be the first time Clint and I shared a lover.”

Wondering why he had thought he could hide his feelings from a master assassin and spy, Steve took in a breath. “No,” he told her, and watched her blink with surprise.

“Then why are you hesitating?”

“Because the last time I was with someone I fought alongside, I lost them both. Aside from that, I was sure you and Clint were exclusive, and you both matter as two of the few people I consider to be friends.”

Understanding blossomed across Natasha’s face. She reached across the table to grasp his hand briefly. “You know none of us can guarantee anything in this life.”

“I know,” Steve replied. “As tempting as you both are, I’m not in a rush. We have a priority to find whatever it is SHIELD sent us to find.”

“Not willing to just go for it and see what happens? Because you somehow juggled fighting in a world war, commanding a team, and loving two people.”

Steve closed his eyes briefly and breathed deeply. She had a point. “Not when I tend to fall in love with my lovers if we’re together long enough. Are you comfortable with that possibility?”

“Yes. You don’t do things in half measures.”

“I heard you told Loki that love was for children,” Steve noted. At her look of surprise, he added, “I asked for the security video from the helicarrier. I needed to know what we could do differently if we were in a similar situation in the future. Fury included your conversation.” Steve smiled. “You had me convinced Loki had struck a nerve.”

“He did,” Natasha acknowledged. “Not to the degree I let him believe, though. He isn’t the first to ask me if I really thought I could reform.” She leaned in. “Are you comfortable knowing the same skills I use to seduce, trap, and kill people are the same skills I’d apply to what we do sexually?”

“Might make it harder for me to watch you work,” Steve admitted, “or listen to you on comms while you do it, but it’s no different in my head than when Peggy used how most men assumed she was a helpless female to her advantage.”

Assured by that statement, Natasha asked, “Anything you’d object to doing in bed?” At his look of confusion, she elaborated, “Things like getting tied up, held down, bossed around, pissed on, tickled, or anything that would make you think what’s happening is not sexy fun times.”

Frowning, Steve said, “None of that sounds fun. Accidentally getting tickled is one thing – that happens sometimes. And sometimes you have to tell the other person to be still or wait or do something like get the lubrication so you can get to the fun part, but that sound different in my head from what you’re suggesting.”

“It is,” Natasha said with a nod. “Any positions you don’t like?”

Steve grimaced. “Rug burn is not fun. Neither are splinters.”

Natasha chuckled. “Agreed. Sand isn’t one of my favorite things either. May I kiss you, Steve? Because all this talk makes me want to kiss you, see if we spark or if this is just wishful thinking.” She let out a nervous breath before she added, “I don’t want to pretend with you. Not for this.”

Steve studied her a moment. “If you ever feel like you need to, tell me so we can make it right.” He waited for her nod of agreement before taking her hand and rising to his feet. She stood with him and met at the corner of the table.

Bending down, he lightly pressed his lips to hers. She embraced him, tilting her head as she met his kiss with a more urgent one. He pulled her closer as he continued to kiss her, feeling desire shoot through him at the feel of her mouth and the press of her body against his. Parting her lips, she let him explore her mouth, meeting his tongue with hers. Deliberately, he tempered their kissing, aware of how quickly things would escalate if he gave into the temptation.

Sensing his reluctance to take it further, Natasha broke the kiss. “I don’t want to stop.”

“I never said I didn’t want you,” Steve reminded her, flashing a grin. “Only that we have other priorities. Speaking of, we’re low on groceries. Want to help me make a list?”

Stepping out of their embrace, Natasha nodded. She took notes on her phone as Steve checked the pantry and bathroom.

“Do you think we’ll be here long enough to warrant a full resupply?” Steve wondered.

“I’d rather do this now and assume we are,” Natasha replied, “than have to do it later. If SHIELD tells us we need to go, I’ll arrange for the stuff to be donated to a food bank so it doesn’t go to waste.”

Steve grimaced at her comment but checked the cabinet where they stored paper goods. “Add paper towels to the list. Looks like we’re down to the last two rolls.”

Clint joined them a few minutes later, holding a tablet in his hand. He passed the tablet to Steve, who grimaced at the email message displayed on it.

“Let me guess,” Natasha drawled, “we’re not needed.”

“Hill says we’re to stay here,” Steve said as Clint filled a cup with coffee before grabbing a plate and a fork and sitting down. “She said we needed to check our surroundings again, and to expect to be here another month if we find nothing now.”

“Nat, are you not eating?” Clint asked.

She shook her head. “Not now; ate yogurt earlier. Figured I’d make the grocery run once we knew if we were staying or going.”

Clint took a slice of the frittata. “Sounds like we’re missing something. Weather’s supposed to be good today. Steve and I can check around if you want to do the grocery run, Nat.”

“Any requests?” she asked.

“Talk to the park ranger again,” Steve suggested as he sat back down at the table. “We should be paying attention to the campgrounds, see how often people rotate through, especially since the weather hasn’t been that great the past two weeks. Oh, and if you meant groceries – more of those cookies you found last time. Those were great.”

Natasha grinned and looked at Clint.

“You know what I like,” Clint reminded her. To Steve, he asked, “Where do you want to look?”

“We’ll check the campgrounds, figure out which ones are closed. Maybe someone’s been camping there when they shouldn’t be and the rangers haven’t caught on yet,” he replied. Feeling the weight of Natasha’s gaze on him, Steve added, “But before we start on that, I’d like to ask you something.”

Clint glanced at Natasha, who nodded and conveyed an entire conversation with a single look. “If you want to become my lover or Natasha’s or both of ours, I’m okay with that,” Clint said. “Just tell us what you want, Steve.”

Steve took a breath. “Both of you. I was with Peggy and Bucky.” He chuckled ruefully. “Never figured out how to stop feeling like we were stealing time from something more important.”

Clint shrugged. “Curse of the life we’ve chosen to lead. Like, I really want to kiss you now, but my stomach thinks I’ve abandoned it, so kissing you will wait until after breakfast.”

Steve smothered a laugh. “Got it. And if I said we should wait until after we’ve done some investigating today?”

“Be something to look forward to,” Natasha agreed, her lips curving in a smile.

Clint finished chewing his bite of frittata and swallowed. “Fine by me. But you’re going to owe me two kisses, Steve, since you got one from Natasha already.”

Steve looked startled by that. Amused, Clint handed him a napkin. “Lipstick always gives it away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of what has been written and posted so far - I love hearing from my readers! :-)


	6. Chapter 6

After breakfast, Natasha shooed Steve and Clint out of the kitchen and dining area, claiming she needed space. Clint excused himself to brush his teeth and Steve did the same, feeling nervous.

Clint waited for him outside the half-bath, looking as though they would hit the trail. He read Steve’s nerves and closed the distance between them, stepping close and giving Steve a comforting hug.

“Hey. I care a lot about you, Steve,” Clint reassured him as they stood close. “I don’t fuck all my friends, don’t fuck around and cheat, and I don’t fuck just anybody. Too much shit has happened to me to make me feel comfortable with letting people I don’t trust or know well kiss or fuck me.” He crooked a smile. “I also don’t hug everyone.”

Steve breathed in, letting go of the breath he had not realized he had been holding. “I’m honored to have your friendship, Clint.”

“That a ‘no’ to changing it?” Clint asked.

Steve met his eyes and leaned down to kiss him. Like the kiss he had shared with Natasha earlier, it was tender, full of warm affection, and escalated. Clint kissed with intent to ignite a wildfire of passion, and Steve nearly forgot they had any other plans for the rest of the day.

When Clint pulled back, Steve was slightly breathless. Desire lit Clint’s green eyes, and he asked, “Sure you want to wait? No one will know we didn’t hit the trail today.”

Swallowing hard, Steve licked his lips and breathed deep. “I will,” he said. “You really don’t want to see me regretting whether we should have gone.”

Clint barked a laugh. “I suppose not.” He stepped back, releasing Steve, and called, “Natasha, you can stop pretending you’re not around. Add lube to the grocery list, please?”

“Already on it,” she said, crossing the kitchen to stand near Clint. “Anything else you want, Steve?”

Steve considered. “Condoms? I’ve been told I can’t transmit or carry disease since I heal so quickly.”

“I have some upstairs, but we’re running low,” Clint volunteered. “I’m clean, but we share a dildo, so we have condoms for that. Pregnancy is not an issue for me and Natasha.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t have children,” Natasha disclosed. “The Red Room did not want to take chances. My hysterectomy was part of my graduation ceremony, and I did not know what it would mean until after the surgery was over.”

Steve looked at her, caught between the automatic apology that came to his lips and the way she seemed to have accepted that as a fact of her life. A glance at Clint revealed he had known Natasha’s infertility for long enough he had made peace with the Red Room’s violation of her body. Even so, his mouth had tightened, showing he was not happy with the reminder.

Steve went with, “Well, I can’t pass on the serum; the Vita-Rays made me sterile.” He saw understanding blossom on Natasha’s and Clint’s faces and skipped any further explanations. “Less cleanup if we use condoms?”

“Works for me,” Clint agreed, and stole a kiss from Steve before kissing Natasha briefly. “Better get moving, Tash, before I give in to temptation and seduce you both.”

She rolled her eyes but moved to pick up the keys to the SUV, which they kept on the low bookcase by the door.

Once she had left, Clint turned to Steve. “Which way do you want to go?”

Steve forced his thoughts away from sex and to the task at hand. “Let’s start with the campground closest to us.”

* * *

Being late February, the campground was empty save for a handful of RVs. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, Steve and Clint progressed to the next campground, which was closed for the winter. Though both men were in excellent physical condition, it was slow going, due to terrain changes.

“If we’re to stay out here another month,” Steve noted as they walked up a steep hill, “I might have to get a pair of boots like yours.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to beat a pair of well-broken-in combat boots,” Clint agreed, “but hiking boots mean you have more flex in the foot. Do you get to have any say in your uniform?”

Startled, Steve admitted, “I never asked. Probably should; these boots will not survive this environment at the rate I’m using them, and I like the armor your uniform has.”

“Hey, this could be your perfect excuse,” Clint offered, grinning.

Steve chuckled as they made their way to the back of the campground, which was deserted. This time of year, only the diehards were camping, and even those were in RVs and campers.

Both men surveyed the landscape for anything unusual. After a few minutes, Steve looked at Clint, who agreed with his silent assessment of ‘nothing to see here.’

Shrugging, Steve pointed the way back up to the road. In companionable silence, the two men headed out of the campground. The next campground was just next door, so they repeated the exercise. By the time they were through, the morning sun had given way to clouds, the temperature had dipped, and rain felt imminent. Regrouping at the road, Steve looked at the other man. “Your take?”

Clint glanced at the sky. “Rain in a half hour, maybe less. You want to trudge through rain?”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Getting soft, Hawkeye?”

“Hell yes,” Clint countered, not ashamed. “This coat I’m wearing isn’t as warm as I’d like, especially when it’s soaking wet. Weatherproof my ass. Especially when I consider what we could do instead.”

“Laundry?” Steve feigned ignorance.

Clint laughed and stepped closer. “Creating it, sure.” He moved to kiss Steve, then halted, seeing something over Steve’s shoulder.

“What?”

“Not sure,” Clint said, and Steve stepped aside to let the other man pass before following him to a tree an arrow flight’s distance away.

Clint touched the trunk and shook his head. “Weird. I thought I saw blood.”

“Trick of the light?” Steve suggested.

“Maybe.” Clint shook his head again and looked at the sky. “If we’ll get soaked, might as well head over to the next campground.” He pulled a flashlight out of his coat pocket and checked the tree one more time, then checked the surrounding ground. Not finding anything, he straightened and nodded to Steve. “Let’s go.”

“The other campground can wait,” Steve decided. “No sense in risking hypothermia. Can you layer under that coat?”

“Yeah. Just wasn’t thinking I needed it today.”

Steve grimaced at the admission. Sunny days in February were always a crapshoot no matter where you were, he had learned, and layers were the way to go. “Not used to layering up in civilian clothes?”

Clint barked a laugh. “Not really. Times I’m in civvies, I limit how much time I’m outside. Most times I’m out in the field, I have my uniform, and I’ve gotten used to having a cold arm because as much as SHIELD and I have tried, I can’t seem to shoot a bow well if my left forearm is covered.” He fell into step beside Steve as they walked back to the cabin. “This is the most I’ve been in civilian clothes on a mission in several years, and the last time was somewhere warm.”

The rain started then, a light drizzle that turned to a steady downpour. Both men chose not to waste energy on words but quickened their pace. As they started down the path back to the cabin, both men noticed a semi-trailer parked in one of the turnout lanes. Neither thought much of it, given the rain’s intensity had increased, the temperature had dropped, and the road had a steep grade. That was what the turnout lane was for, and the trail they were using veered off the road at that point and they forgot about the trailer.

Both men were dripping water and Clint was cursing his choice of coat as they stepped onto the cabin’s porch. As Steve unlocked the door, Clint shed his coat, shaking it out before stepping inside and hanging it up on a hook in the coat rack.

Steve hung up his coat as Clint asked, “I’m headed up to shower. Want to join me?”

“You think we’ll both fit?” All Steve had cared about when he had checked out the bathroom upstairs was whether he would hit his head on the ceiling and if the shower head was adjustable. The thought of doing something more in that room intrigued Steve.

Clint grinned. “Worth figuring out, don’t you think? If nothing else, it’ll mean the steam will be warm.”

“You want to see me naked.”

Unashamed, Clint stepped out of the hiking boots he had worn, leaving them by the door. “Something wrong with that?”

Once he had removed his boots, Steve set them next to Clint’s. “Just thought you would wait until Natasha was back.”

A sensual smile on his lips, Clint stepped closer to Steve and kissed him hungrily. “She can watch later,” Clint told him huskily. “I want to touch you now.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and his breath caught on the implied promise. He had to force himself to breathe. Swallowing hard as his pulse raced in anticipation, he met Clint’s gaze. “And if we don’t fit?”

“Just means a temporary delay,” Clint told him. “And no, we aren’t doing the ‘sit on the toilet while someone’s in the shower’ tactic. It’s a good way to break things.”

“I don’t recommend trying to exit a tub you’re sharing with someone else,” Steve commiserated. “That’s also a good way to break things.”

Clint laughed as he reached the top of the stairs. “Why do I feel you found that out when you weren’t having a sexy moment?”

“Because you don’t think it could’ve happened any other time?” Steve asked.

“Nah, more like, it sounds like something you do when you’re a kid. Not that I’d speak from personal experience or anything.”

Amused, Steve replied, “You’d be right. Made it easier not to repeat it when I was with —” His voice trailed off.

“You can say their names,” Clint assured him when he did not finish his sentence. “I’m not an idiot. You still love them; will until you die. That’s the way love works.”

“You don’t care?”

Clint turned and met his worried gaze. “Are we still going to work together well if we have sex? Is the friendship we have going to continue? Are you here with me and not using me as a substitute for them? I care more about the answers to that than the fact you still love two people who, from everything I’ve heard, were amazing.”

Swallowing hard at the emotions Clint stirred up, Steve looked at him. “The answers are yes, yes, and no.”

Clint smiled and kissed him gently. “Then we have no problems.”

He opened the door to the bathroom and stepped inside. Steve watched as the other man made a few rough measurements, admiring and amused that Clint was using his sniper skills for pleasure.

“Can’t get too frisky, but we’ll fit; looks like the tub’s about six feet,” Clint declared. He stole another kiss from Steve before undressing, dumping his clothes in a corner of the bathroom. He then turned on the water, adjusted the temperature, and stepped into the tub. Steve undressed while waiting for Clint to finish his preparations before joining him.

Expecting that Clint would use the shower as mere prelude to sex, Steve was surprised when Clint noted, “I want to get clean, but since we have just enough elbow room, what do you say to trading soap duties? As in, I soap you up in exchange for you doing the same?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever done that,” Steve said cautiously, “but sure.”

“When we get back,” Clint said as he grabbed a washcloth and lathered it up with soap, “and we’re at the Tower, remind me not to complain about having too much space?”

Chuckling, Steve leaned over and kissed Clint before reaching for the handheld shower.

Desire simmered under Clint’s attention to getting Steve clean. Clint even managed, despite the tightness of the space, to maneuver Steve so he could soap and wash his cock, balls, and ass. Clint did not tease, as Steve half-expected, but kept his touch to the task at hand. Somehow that made his ministrations even more arousing. Once it was his turn to return the favor, Steve enjoyed the chance to explore his soon-to-be-lover’s body in such an intimate way.

Like Steve, Clint was already half-hard from the attention, and he shuddered at the first touch of Steve’s hand on his cock. Not wanting to trigger him too fast, Steve followed Clint’s lead and focused on the mechanics of his task. He appreciated that Clint appeared to be proportionate for a man of his height and build, and his mouth watered, anticipating being able to taste such a lovely specimen. The scars on Clint’s body testified to a hard-lived life. Steve pressed a kiss to one nasty-looking but faded scar that went across part of Clint’s back.

“What happened?” he asked as he ran the washcloth across Clint’s back, one finger tracing the scar in question.

“Some dude on a corner somewhere with a sharp knife tried to kill me,” Clint told him. “Can’t tell you anything more than that, even if you have a higher SHIELD clearance than I do.”

Steve’s lips thinned at the secrecy, but all he said was, “Old news then?”

Clint turned and kissed Steve. “Yes. You want to hop out and get dried off, and I’ll finish up?”

“Sure.” Steve stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. As he dried off, Clint finished showering. “You want me take your clothes to your room?”

“That would be great.”

Steve hung up his towel, gathered their clothes, and brought it to the room Clint had been using. He set the pile on the floor since the bed took up most of the space. Before he could do more than pull the covers back on the bed and sit down, Clint stepped into the room.

Clint pulled condoms and a bottle of lube out of the drawer of the nightstand. Steve noted the brand and type of condom was not the same one he used. He wondered if something labeled ‘super thin’ was better than the ones he bought. The brand of lube was familiar, only because Steve had been warned about what petroleum jelly did to condoms, and it had been the one he had been recommended.

“Anything you don’t want to do, or it stops being fun, tell me,” Clint requested as he joined Steve on the bed.

“Agreed,” Steve said, and, kneeling on the bed, leaned in for a kiss.

Clint met him with the same fierce intensity as he had previously. Kissing him was like striking a match, igniting desire with an accelerant that seared through Steve’s blood. Steve’s hands rose to cradle Clint’s biceps as they continued to kiss. He had not had a male lover since a brief encounter after the Battle of New York. Being with Clint made Steve remember what he loved about being with someone familiar with his flexibility and strength, and who understood tenderness did not equate weakness. Clint seemed determined to make Steve forget anything but his mouth, his hands, and feel of his body against Steve’s. Unwilling to be a passive participant, Steve gave as much as he got. He gave in to the impulse to see if Clint’s nipples were as sensitive as Steve’s were, pushing Clint gently to his back for better access. Clint went willingly.

“Ah, God, Steve, you and Tash been talking?” Clint said, arching as Steve sucked and licked each of his nipples.

Steve chuckled. “Not about this. Should we be?”

“You might kill me with pleasure if you do,” Clint noted, then gasped as Steve blew air across his left nipple before licking it again.

“Doesn’t sound like a bad way to go,” Steve murmured, then turned his attention to the other nipple.

Clint whimpered, but he did not sound like he was protesting. Intent on continuing downward, Steve was surprised when he felt Clint grip his left arm, stopping him and tugging him up for a heated kiss before rolling them both over so Steve was on his back.

“Something I want to do first.” Clint reached over and grabbed a condom, fumbling with the wrapper a moment before extricating it and slipping it on himself. He then repeated the action, though with less fumbling, on Steve.

At Clint’s touch, Steve shuddered and inhaled, abruptly understanding why ‘super thin’ was a good thing.

Grinning wickedly, Clint moved to kneel between his legs and stroked him some more. “How quickly can you recover once you’ve come?”

“About ten minutes, less if it’s been a while,” Steve said, finding it difficult to think with Clint’s hands stroking his cock and balls. Need and desire heated Steve’s blood, making him crave more. “Don’t stop what you’re doing – feels so good.”

“This’ll be better,” Clint promised, and grabbed the lube and set it down near Steve’s right hip. He then shifted so he could put his mouth where his hands were. Bracing his left arm across Steve’s hips, Clint kept a steady pressure to prevent Steve from arching up too much. He did not take Steve’s cock in one go, but worked at it, giving Steve plenty of time to appreciate the way Clint’s mouth and tongue felt through the thin condom. Steve thrust up, not wanting to hurt Clint, but what Clint was doing made it difficult to focus on anything but the heat and pressure of his mouth. Clint had also lubed up his fingers and was stretching out Steve’s asshole. The sensations soon made Steve shudder through his first orgasm of the afternoon, and he cried out wordlessly as he came.

Looking pleased at his efforts, Clint lifted his head and removed his fingers. He put the bottle of lube back on the nightstand as Steve lay in bliss. The thought crossed his mind he should flip over to his hands and knees.

“Lift up. Want to see you,” Clint told him, reading Steve’s mind. Once Steve registered the request, Clint put a pillow under his hips. As soon as Steve was in position, Clint thrust his cock into Steve’s ass.

Steve stifled the instinctive gasp and breathed out instead. He raised his hips and met Clint’s thrusts, loving the intense look of need and arousal on his face. Clint paced his thrusts, as if he was in no grand hurry to orgasm. Steve did not mind; he wanted this moment to last.

Having heard Clint with Natasha, Steve knew he was a vocal lover, and more vocal the closer he got to cresting passion’s peak. He was not disappointed. To his surprise, hearing Clint tell him how he felt ratcheted up his arousal.

“God, Steve, you feel good like this,” Clint told him several minutes later. “Don’t want to stop.”

“You close?” Steve asked.

Clint pursed his lips, breathed out, and looked at Steve as he continued to thrust. “Want you to come with me.” With those words, Clint shifted position and angled his thrust to better hit Steve’s prostate, drilling it.

Steve gasped wordlessly, his mouth falling open in a silent scream as his orgasm blasted all thought from his mind. He came back to his senses in time to see Clint thrust one more time and felt him shudder through his release. Clint fell slightly forward but braced himself so his full weight did not fall onto Steve.

Needing to hold him, Steve pulled him in close. He did not have the words to say how much it meant to him to know he could be with another man who cared for him, who was a friend and a combat partner, and who could give him this kind of intimacy. Steve had thought he would have to live without this kind of closeness, figuring what he had shared with Bucky and Peggy was too unique to have again.

Clint allowed the embrace for a few moments before admitting, “Sorry, but I have to get up or this will get messy,” he apologized. He kissed Steve briefly.

Nodding in understanding, Steve waited for Clint to rise to his feet and deal with the condom. Clint tossed it into a trash can by the window. Steve waited until Clint was out of the way before removing his condom and tossing it into the same trash can.

Clint kissed him sweetly. “Just to be clear: I want to do that again with you.” He looked anxious and concerned.

“Worried this was a one-time thing?” Steve asked.

“Is it?”

“No,” Steve replied, and kissed him. “I could go for more now.”

Clint chuckled. “That a challenge?”

“Could be,” Steve teased, sensing the other man was ready for a break. “Or we could get dressed and go downstairs and help Natasha. I can hear the SUV coming down the road.”

Clint pretended to consider his options before chuckling. “That’s not a choice, you know, since I’d like to have sex with both you and Natasha.”

Steve grinned. “Dressed it is, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, suggestions, constructive criticism, 'hey, I like this', etc. always welcome.


	7. Chapter 7

When both Clint and Steve met Natasha, ready to help her with the groceries, she teased, “Either you’re that bored, or you had fun without me.”

Clint kissed her. “We had fun without you, but decided we’d stop and help you with this stuff, in case you wanted in on that fun.”

Natasha glanced at Steve. The look she sent him said she guessed what they had done and could see it in her head, enough to find it arousing. Even so, Steve sensed caution radiating from her. She held herself motionless, as if expecting Steve to want nothing more than Clint. Whatever fun they would have next meant some configuration wherein she was not Steve’s lover. Some instinct made Steve close the distance between them and kiss her reassuringly. She relaxed into the kiss, greeting him with unexpected tenderness. Her lips curved in a smile as she stepped back.

“Let’s get everything inside so we can do other things,” she suggested, popping the trunk of the SUV.

“Yes, ma’am,” Clint said, saluting her sloppily.

Natasha shook her head but started handing bags to Steve. She had loaded the trunk space of the SUV full. Between them, it took several minutes to get everything into the house and stored in their appropriate locations. They had just unloaded the last bags into the house and locked the SUV when the rain started again.

“Yes! Beat the rain!” Clint cheered, pumping his fist.

Steve laughed as he started to distribute the groceries into their proper locations. Like previous grocery runs, Natasha had gotten a selection of fresh meats and vegetables, but this time, it looked as though she had chosen items with an eye towards how long they would be at the location. It did not take long for the fridge and pantry to be full. With that task completed, Clint took his turn at cooking, with both Natasha and Steve helping where they could.

Everything about what they were doing seemed normal – or at least, what had become normal in the two and a half weeks they had spent in the cabin. Some part of Steve, worried about the rest of the day passing in some sort of awkward state, relaxed as the routine of their day progressed. He had forgotten how observant both Natasha and Clint were, or how they communicated with each other with a look, or how they had no problem conversing in languages he had never learned.

Clint shooed out him out of the kitchen, claiming he wanted to spare Steve the chore of scrubbing the pan he had dirtied and “almost burned. My fault for forgetting how to cook on an old, supposedly non-stick pan.” Not thinking much of it, especially since the kitchen did not have a dishwasher, Steve headed to the living room, wanting to finish reading the novel he had found on the bookshelf by the door.

He heard Natasha and Clint talking in the kitchen as they did the dishes. His brain processed the language as nothing he recognized, and then he forgot about them entirely as he dived back into the story of a boy, his unicorn, and the post-apocalyptic world they lived in where magic existed, and technology did not. Two chapters away from finishing, a feminine hand abruptly plucked the novel out of his hand.

“Hey!” he protested as he found himself with a lapful of mischievous woman. Natasha curled her arms around him and leaned in for a kiss.

Steve resisted, leaning back. “You want something, Natasha?” he asked, skeptical of her motives. “Because if you were scheming something in the kitchen with Clint, I want to know what you want.”

“Tell him, Clint.”

“I want you and Natasha to have your first time together without me,” Clint announced, not sounding embarrassed. “If you want me there, Steve, say so, but I thought you might not want an audience.”

Surprised by the gesture, Steve looked over Natasha’s shoulder. “What language were you speaking?”

“Mandarin Chinese,” Clint replied. “You don’t know it?”

“No, but I pick up languages easily,” Steve said. To Natasha, he asked, “Do you want to be with me like Clint wants?”

Natasha smirked. “He’ll get off on hearing us.”

“That’s not a ‘no,’” Steve pointed out. “Also, you’re not answering my question.” He studied her. He had seen her in combat, studied her moves, trained with her, and thought he could tell when she was hiding. Natasha deflected and attacked when she was unsure. “What do you want, Natasha? Because if what you want is someone to prove a theory you’re holding, I’m not sure I want to play.”

Natasha jerked in surprise. Her eyes flew to meet Steve’s. “You…” She rolled her shoulders uncomfortably.

“Have your number, Natasha,” Clint stated, sounding unsurprised, as he set the last of the dishes into the dishrack. “Despite what we discussed, which you derided as me being too romantic, you still wanted to see if he would only do something because I wanted it. Well, you got your answer.” Annoyance underlined his words.

Steve eyed her. “You that unsure I want you?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Yes.”

Steve shook his head slightly. “Why?”

“Because you like men more than women,” Natasha replied.

“That might be,” Steve agreed. “Never bothered to analyze it. Never mattered to me, either way. Right now, the only guy I want is Clint, and the only woman I want is you. Not because Clint wants it. Because I want it.” He glanced over to Clint. “Any reason you wanted to give us time alone?”

“Seems only fair since we were,” Clint offered. “If you don’t want that, I’m okay with that too, but I’d feel better if I did a perimeter check of the property before it got to be too late in the day.”

“Do what you need to do,” Steve suggested. “Natasha and I will talk while you’re out.”

“Thanks, Cap,” Clint said. He quickly put on his boots and coat and exited the cabin.

Left alone, Natasha met Steve’s gaze. “That did not go the way I wanted,” she admitted. “Clint’s annoyed with me now.”

“You did make it sound like his voyeurism was a thing to be ashamed of,” Steve pointed out.

“It’s not. Not when I would be a hypocrite to say it was. If it helps, I didn’t realize I was doing it?” Natasha asked. She took another breath. “I’m nervous. I don’t make these kinds of mistakes when I’m not nervous.” She looked hesitant and fragile in a way Steve had rarely seen her be, lending credence to her words.

“I know,” Steve assured her. “But if he wasn’t here, I’d still want you.” He leaned in to kiss her, intending to be reassuring. Natasha drank it in, then broke the kiss to breathe deeply.

“You want to have sex with me?”

“Yes.”

She then climbed off Steve’s lap and stood. Reaching out, she asked, “Your room or mine?”

“Mine,” Steve told her. “I put the lube and condoms you bought there.”

Natasha nodded and led the way into the bedroom on the first floor.

“For the record, since it came up earlier,” Steve began, “you’re not a substitute for anyone.”

Startled, Natasha turned and looked at Steve. “Thanks for telling me,” she replied. “One question: do you want to go slow, or do you want something fast?”

“I want to be naked, holding you, touching you, getting to know you,” Steve clarified. “I don’t want you seducing me like I’m some target. I want you to be naked, and then I want us to spend more time figuring out what we like together than discussing the mechanics of it.” He shed his clothes, tossing them in the pile in the corner, and donned a condom.

Chuckling, Natasha stole a kiss before undressing. She was more careful with her clothing, putting them in a neat pile by the door. Steve pulled back the covers on the bed and she climbed onto it before meeting him with a heated kiss.

Steve took his time, needing to know Natasha as only a lover could. She tried to rush things, as if a timer was ticking in her head.

“Shh. If Clint comes in and we’re not done yet, I don’t care,” Steve assured her. “He can join us then if he wants.”

Natasha shuddered through a breath and kissed him. “You don’t mind if he gets off watching us?”

“Well, I’d hope he joins us rather than just watching,” Steve said, grinning.

Surprised, she looked at him. “You mean that.”

“I do.”

“You are not the innocent I thought you were.”

Steve laughed softly and moved to explore Natasha’s breasts. Capturing one with his mouth, he licked and sucked, noting as he did that Natasha did not respond. “Not a thing for you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not the first time with someone I care about.” She took a breath and added, “It’s too associated with work.”

“Then I won’t bother,” Steve told her and moved downward. Her red pubic hair was neatly trimmed, which surprised Steve, who had half-expected she would be waxed like he had heard a lot of modern women were. He appreciated that and stroked his hand through her pubic hair to caress her mound.

She spread her legs to give him more room. He took his time, learning what made her moan and breathe heavy. She was not as vocal as Clint was, but Steve had learned about sex in places where sex noises would be problematic. He understood body language, and Natasha’s quickly became familiar as she lifted her hips and arched into his touch. With every motion, she told him what she liked. She loved his tongue on her clit, loved his fingers in her pussy, loved the way he nibbled and licked and kept a steady rhythm going until she crashed over that first wave of pleasure and called out his name. 

Smug, Steve moved to lie on the bed next to her. To his surprise, she turned and kissed him, tasting her on him. The action lit another match in the growing fire burning through Steve’s veins. With a gentle push, Natasha moved Steve to lie on his back. Natasha wasted no time in mounting Steve’s cock. He held her hips, trying to control the pace. She was tight and warm around him, but what got Steve going more was the way she tried to prolong the moment, lifting her body up slowly before moving downward again. Needing to see her orgasm before he did, he licked his thumb and began stroking her clit.

“More,” she whimpered. “Harder.”

Steve happily obliged, loving the intense concentration on her face as she tried to focus. She was as committed to his pleasure as he was to hers, and he loved that they were not rushing the moment. Steve reveled in the sensations of heat and wetness as he met Natasha’s downward movements, careful not to dislodge her as she continued to ride his cock. It did not take long for him to come, though not as hard as he had earlier in the day.

Natasha kissed him before lifting herself up and dealing with the condom, stepping into the hall bath to toss it in the trash can. She surprised Steve by putting a second condom on his cock. “I want more,” she told him, stroking him.

Startled, Steve took a moment to realize what she might do. “How I can I help –” His words ended on a moan because she put her mouth on his cock and proceeded to put as much as she could down her throat without dislodging the condom. Arousal seared through him as she continued to suck him. He thrust up his hips gently, and she went with the motion, caressing his balls with one hand as his erection built. Just when he thought he might burst, Natasha did something with her throat muscles, causing him to cry out her name as he orgasmed again.

Looking very satisfied, Natasha braced herself over Steve. “I taste of latex,” she warned him.

“Don’t care; want to hold you anyway,” Steve told her, and read the distaste that flashed across her face. “Maybe next time?”

Natasha dropped a kiss on his lips in apology. “Not much for cuddling like Clint is. Nothing against you.”

“Noted,” Steve said, disappointed. “If we aren’t cuddling, what do you want to do now?”

Natasha put her legs together, careful not to hit Steve, and then rolled off the bed. “Shower, alone,” she told him. “But I’ll leave enough hot water for you.” She kissed him again, closed mouth, and left the room.

Steve exhaled heavily, hating the abrupt end to their intimacy. In time, he hoped Natasha would become more comfortable with him. Undoubtedly, her actions were because she felt exposed and vulnerable. Reluctantly, he stood and went to the half-bath to deal with the condom he was wearing. Already, he was looking forward to figuring out when he could be with Natasha and Clint again. Any thought he had about their half-defined mission was now far from Steve's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Steve's reading is Steven R. Boyett's Ariel. I figure this cabin has an entire bookcase along the front wall of the living room full of fantasy, sci-fi, detective, mystery, and romance books, with the last book purchased dating back to the early '90's.


	8. Chapter 8

February faded into March with no further signs of anything being other than normal. By the end of March, Clint, Steve, and Natasha had walked all but the most inaccessible trails, made rounds of the campgrounds, and figured out who their neighbors were. The cabin they were in was one of few privately owned. They had figured out which cabins were the rentals, and which belonged to long-term residents. They had a map of everything tacked up in the kitchen. Yet the sense they were missing something lingered.

Steve had not realized that lack of connectivity meant TV reception was minimal and prone to disconnecting, limiting their entertainment to whatever DVDs and books were on the shelves in the living room and whatever Clint and Natasha had saved to their computers. On days when the weather got too bad to explore the park, he, Clint, and Natasha had gone through the cabin’s extensive library of books. Now, Steve could say he had caught up on some items on his ‘pop culture reference’ list, but he knew he was tired of being in the same house as Natasha and Clint.

It was not anything against them. He loved the way they kissed him, loved the evenings they spent having sex. Clint and Natasha seemed determined to have sex with him separately, often contriving to find ways that they had such private time. He assumed it was something they had discussed without his presence, so he did not bother to bring the subject of the three of them together. He craved it, though; the more he had sex with them separately, the more he wanted to see how they would fit together. Reluctance to upset the balance they had achieved drove Steve to remain silent.

Added to that was this much time, this little space, had meant they had talked about topics they would not have shared on a mission. All of them had PTSD for varying reasons and in varying degrees. Natasha was triggered by a scene in a book she had been reading and tried to seduce both Clint and Steve, thinking they were her targets. Clint did not like feeling trapped. He screamed at Natasha and Steve on the one day when an unexpected, heavy snowfall made being outdoors dangerous. Steve hated the damp cold caused by the constant rain and winter temperatures. On one of his bad days, he stole all the comforters in the house, including the new quilts they had bought that first weekend, trying to get warm.

Steve usually ran ten miles, a path that either took him down part of one of the trails or near the highway, paralleling Lake Crescent. Today, however, the rain beat on the roof, and he could not find the energy to get up. He stared at the ceiling, feeling an uncharacteristic lethargy, and took deep breaths, trying to convince himself to start the day.

He must have laid there long enough to worry both Clint and Natasha. Natasha knocked on his door before stepping inside. “You feel okay?” she asked anxiously.

He took one more breath before sitting up and responding to her question. “Just not up to going out to run in the rain.”

“Then don’t,” she said, and sat on the bed. “We could do something else instead.” She leaned in to kiss him, tempting him.

He leaned into the kiss, enjoying the way she opened to him, trusting him to take what he offered even as she tried to ratchet up the heat. Though he was tempted, Steve resisted, aware his body needed the exercise the run provided.

Natasha took the hint. “Not feeling that either?” she asked.

He kissed her briefly. “I am, but I really should run. If I don’t, it’s a lot harder for me to get to sleep. Promissory note for later?”

“I’ll take it,” Clint said, and Steve looked up to see the other man standing in the doorway, a knowing smile on his lips. “Rain getting to you?”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Remind me to ask more questions next time SHIELD wants to stash us somewhere.”

Clint and Natasha chuckled. “We will,” she promised, and stood. “We’ll leave you alone to get ready for your run.”

Steve rose, watching them exit his room. For a heartbeat, he wondered what would happen if he said he changed his mind. The answer was far too obvious, and he did not want to abuse his leadership or their trust in him to get laid. He got out of bed and forced himself to get ready. He could hear Clint teasing Natasha, telling her it was no fair she got a morning kiss, and her telling him he was not quick enough. Steve stepped out to the living room in time to see Clint kissing Natasha, as if to prevent her from stopping him. Clint waved goodbye to Steve without stopping his kiss, and Steve choked back a laugh.

He ran out into the rain, still thinking about seeing his lovers together. It was starting to look as though whatever hunch SHIELD had about something happening in the park was a dead end. He was restless, wanting to put his skills to use, and thought Clint and Natasha felt the same way. Though he normally ran one of the trails that was not far from the cabin, he chose to run closer to the road. He did not want to deal with rain-soaked tree branches or the inevitable mud associated with the trail.

The rain drizzled down, a constant and steady downpour, and Steve did his best to ignore the way it beat against his skin. He should be used to it now, but the reminder that he could be warm and doing something else rapidly became a mantra in his head. He ran fast enough that wearing a raincoat was unnecessary, but combined with his mood, the rain this morning seemed to be wetter and heavier than usual. Giving in to the urge, Steve checked his watch, seeing that he had managed to run eight miles. He decided it was close enough, especially since he would be doubling the distance on the way back. At the entrance to the oldest campground located within the national park, Steve turned around, noting as he did the park appeared to have several large passenger vans parked in its lot.

Curiosity drove him to check out the vans. He noted the vans had temporary placards taped to the sides, indicating that a church youth group was using the campground and its facilities. He frowned, thinking that it was a little early in the season to be camping with a group of children, even if all were housed in cabins. Mentally wishing them luck, Steve headed out of the parking lot and back home.

He stepped into the cabin to find it empty. Shrugging, he went to shower and change. A sticky note on the upstairs bathroom door caught his eye. It took him a moment to parse Clint’s half-print, half-cursive, and almost illegible scrawl.

_Steve,_

_We took the boat across the lake. We are out of milk and eggs and Natasha wants to make something different for breakfast. Should be back by the time you’re out of the shower._

_\- Clint_

Steve appreciated the note and took it down as he stepped into the bathroom, tossing it into the trash. He was just drying off when he heard Natasha and Clint step out on the porch. Though they had never discussed it, Clint and Natasha had adopted the habit of talking as they approached the cabin, acknowledging Steve could hear things at a greater distance and needed to know if whoever was approaching the cabin was friendly. Steve grinned as he heard the pair discussing the owners of the general store across the lake. Apparently, the clerk this morning thought Natasha and Clint were married.

Wanting to join the conversation, Steve hung up the towel he had been using and dressed in what had become his usual uniform for the day: socks, underwear, jeans, and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He bundled his dirty clothes into a pile and headed downstairs, detouring to add to the laundry pile in his room before joining Clint at the table. Natasha had already started working in the kitchen.

“Need any help?” Steve asked her.

She shook her head. She was making a batter that appeared to contain eggs, butter, condensed milk, cottage cheese, and flour, judging from the containers Steve could see.

Satisfied by that answer, Steve turned to Clint. “The clerk thinks you’re married?”

“She acts like she’s already written a novel about us,” Clint stated, amused. “We’re more exciting than the youth group that’s at the old campground.” He leaned in to kiss Steve briefly before getting to his feet. “I’m going to take a shower, since Natasha’s making cottage cheese dumplings and those take a while. Want to join me?”

“Already showered,” Steve pointed out.

Clint looked disappointed. “But you still want me and Natasha?” he asked carefully.

Startled by that question, Steve looked at Clint. He realized that his refusal to be with Natasha earlier, combined with his refusal now, made the question valid. “I do. I was thinking more about wasting water than sex.”

Reassured, Clint chuckled and headed upstairs.

“See anything new while you were out on your run?” Natasha asked.

“Just a church youth group at the campground up the road,” Steve said, watching her shape dough.

Natasha frowned. “It’s still cold and wet. What would they hope to do?”

“Pray?” Steve suggested. “Read the Bible? The orphanage Bucky and I were in was run by nuns. If it was too cold or too wet to be outside, they wanted us to read and pray. I was usually too sick to notice the weather.” Dryly, he added, “Is it a bad thing that I’ve memorized last rites?”

“I can’t judge,” Natasha told him as she laid the balls of dough out onto a plate. “My childhood was ruled by the Red Room.” She paused before adding, “But if this group is from a conservative religious sect, prayer and Bible reading is probably the order of the day. I can check it out later if you want.”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” Steve agreed, and waited until Natasha had moved to start frying the dough before helping himself to coffee. “Did you see anything unusual while you were at the store?”

“No. I’m beginning to think you’re right about this being a dead end, and we should ask if we can go back to New York. If we’re just going to be sitting around, I’d rather be home.”

“Agreed.” He added water to the tea pot and plugged it in, then took his cup of coffee back to the table before grabbing plates and silverware to set the table.

Clint joined them as Natasha finished frying the dough balls, which she called ‘sirniki.’ Clint pulled out sour cream and the jar of raspberry jam from the fridge, which told Steve the other man was very familiar with this breakfast food. Steve tried the sirniki plain first, then with the sour cream and raspberry jam, and found he agreed with Clint’s decision to add toppings.

“What’s the plan for the rest of the day?” Clint asked once they had eaten most of what Natasha had made.

“There’s a church youth group at the campground up the road,” Steve said. “First one I’ve seen at the campground since we’ve been here.”

Clint ate the last of the pancake on his plate before responding. “And you want Natasha and me to poke around, see if they are who they say they are.”

Steve nodded. “Granted it was early in the morning, but Easter Sunday was just last weekend. The timing feels weird.”

Clint looked at Natasha. “I don’t think it needs both of us. Your call.”

“I’ll go,” Natasha decided. “You can stay dry.” She flashed Clint and Steve a smile. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

As soon as she had finished with her breakfast, Natasha headed out. She returned two hours later, looking coldly furious.

“Captain, we have a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking for this to be wrapped up in another chapter or two. :-) Comments and feedback always welcome!


	9. Chapter 9

Steve paused the show he and Clint had been watching and waited for Natasha to elaborate.

“The signs on the panel vans are for a church that either does not exist locally or does not exist, period,” Natasha said, taking a seat on the side chair closest to the couch. “The group does not have a reservation to use that facility under that name, either. None of the cabins in the campground are occupied, but they’ve posted guards. You must have been up early enough, Steve, that they weren’t paying attention yet. All of the cabins are empty, and the vans have restraints – the kind where you don’t want people leaving their seats.”

Steve looked at her. “You think they’re waiting for someone to show up.”

Natasha nodded. “Easiest way to smuggle a group of people through this kind of territory would use large passenger vans or a semi. No one would think twice about either, and the cabins would give the group a base of operations.”

“This house is the nearest private cabin to that campground,” Steve noted. He looked to Clint and Natasha. “If no one’s been occupying it for several months before we moved in, it would make sense that someone might assume it was abandoned, and that no one would notice. We’ve seen the rangers do a circuit of the park, but there are parts they miss regularly out of sheer timing. That still leaves us with the problem of what to do next.”

“Stake it out, see when the truck comes in,” Clint said, looking grim. “Guess it’s time to suit up.”

“Before we do that,” Steve said, holding up a hand to stop Clint from leaving the room, “say we’re right and we wind up freeing a large group of people. How do we get them to safety?”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “You don’t think SHIELD will step up?”

“Not if they told us to lay low and not draw attention,” Steve replied. “And we also don’t have the weaponry to pull off a massive rescue unless we want to get creative.”

Natasha flashed him a smile. “What, you don’t think this will be fun?”

“He has a point,” Clint broke in. “Do we trust the rangers not to be involved in this?”

When neither Steve or Natasha replied, Clint nodded grimly. “We will be like the Pied Piper, then.” At Steve’s look of confusion, Clint elaborated, “Pick a place we can put them, notify the authorities, and then be elsewhere when they arrive.”

“Got it.” Steve turned to Natasha. “Any ideas?”

“We can’t wear our public uniforms,” Natasha noted. “Play this as if we just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

“Agreed,” Steve stated. “Which means we need to minimize any casualties.”

They continued to discuss plans for another half hour before they dressed in combat gear. SHIELD had issued Steve both woodland and urban camouflage combat uniforms for stealth operations, though he had been ordered to wear his more familiar Captain America uniform for non-stealth operations. At the time Maria Hill had told them they were going to a safehouse, he had packed none of his uniforms, though he had brought his combat boots. Natasha had added his uniforms to her suitcases, and she had also brought his shield in its leather case. Unlike Steve, she had expected a change of mission.

Now, he dressed in the more forest-appropriate uniform, layering it over a long-sleeve t-shirt in deference to the weather. Steve stepped out of his bedroom to see his companions were dressed, armed, and ready.

Like Steve, Clint wore woodland camouflage, though his uniform looked more tailored for him, since it exposed his forearms, allowing him to wear his usual arm and wrist guards.

“You going to be warm enough?” Steve asked, concerned when he saw what Clint was wearing.

Clint kissed him briefly and grinned. “Been colder with less clothes. You and Tasha can warm me up later.”

Steve met his gaze, seeing Clint’s resolve and conviction. Unwilling to get into an argument, Steve nodded his agreement and focused on the mission at hand. 

Clint handed him a pair of handguns, one loaded with stun bullets, the other with live rounds. He also handed Steve the case containing the high-tech, nearly invisible earpiece that allowed them to communicate with each other in the middle of a firefight. Natasha was dressed in the same jeans and shirt she had been wearing, but she had added what looked to be pretty bracelets to her wrists. They were Stark-revised versions of the electrocuting Widow Bites, made to blend easier with civilian clothing. From the boat shed, Clint had gotten zip-tie-style handcuffs and stun and smoke grenades; he handed a few of each to Steve and Natasha before taking some for himself.

Clint said, “I’ll see what’s going on down the road, set up a position as discussed, and report back.”

* * *

Three hours later, Clint reported, “The vans are back and they’re still empty, but there’s a semi following them with the name of a furniture delivery company.”

“We see it,” Natasha confirmed a few minutes later from her vantage point. She and Steve had stationed themselves in a hidden spot that gave them a good view of the campground’s parking lot. They had put listening bugs in the campground’s main lodge and had gotten an earful of the group’s plans. The group running the operation had yet to identify themselves, but the bugs had enabled Steve, Natasha, and Clint to determine the person in charge was named Mr. Kalove. Mr. Kalove wanted to inspect his merchandise; they would load those deemed worthy of his special attention into the vans, to be ferried to major Washington State cities for prostitution. They would transport those that remained in the semi to work in the fields as migrant labor as part of a group that ensured the laborers themselves would remain indebted to Kalove’s organization. Kalove had five men on site; another six would arrive with the truck and vans. It was clear from Kalove’s conversations that his men were all armed with firearms and will kill anyone who tried to protest.

They waited until the semi was fully unloaded. All of the people on the semi were chained together, even the youngest, who looked to be no older than ten years old. They looked to be a mix of Hispanic and Eastern European people, likely undocumented immigrants who had paid their life savings to be transported by human traffickers into the country.

The three Avengers waited for the perfect moment to strike, which was when Kalove’s minions were distracted by the need to focus on segregating the group from the semi into women worthy of Mr. Kalove’s attention. Two of the minions closest to Kalove took advantage of their position, manhandling and abusing the women as they jostled them into a line for Kalove to inspect them.

From his sniper’s nest, Clint shot Kalove with a paralytic arrow, causing him to fall to the ground. He then shot the two closest underlings, killing them. Next, Clint sent an arrow into the fray, releasing smoke. Natasha and Steve added two more smoke grenades, sending people into chaos.

Steve and Natasha ran into the smoke cloud, eliminating or knocking out the rest of Kalove’s team with brutal efficiency. Once the surviving underlings were subdued, Natasha and Steve tied them up with the zip-ties. Steve also zip-tied Mr. Kalove, ensuring he could not move.

Turning to the shocked group of prisoners, Natasha surveyed them. She did a quick headcount, coming up with about a hundred people. “How many of you speak English?”

A few hands raised.

“Can you understand me?” she tried in Russian.

More hands.

“What about now?” she asked in Spanish.

The rest of the group nodded eagerly.

She glanced at Steve.

“Okay, we will repeat this so everyone understands it,” he said in English. Natasha promptly translated.

“You are free, but we need to move you from this campground,” Steve said. He explained he and Natasha would unlock everyone from the chain but needed to move the group to the edge of the national park.

It took over an hour to get the assembled prisoners unlocked and back onto the semi. Steve surprised Natasha by being able to drive the semi to the spot on the highway where they planned to radio both SHIELD and the FBI. Clint followed them in a van, into which he had loaded the semi-conscious Mr. Kalove and his minions, locking them into the seats.

From a high point in the trees, Clint stayed behind long enough to ensure the FBI and SHIELD were handling the situation. He then jogged back to the cabin, where Natasha and Steve waited.

“Any problems?” Steve asked once Clint shut the cabin door.

Clint shrugged. “Couple of the people we rescued took off, but that’s not unexpected. Can’t expect them to all hang around. Can we talk about something else? I figure we have about twenty minutes before Fury or Maria Hill show up.”

“In that case, let’s set the scene,” Natasha suggested. “Steve, give me a hand? We need to hide everything and make like we’ve been doing something else.”

* * *

Maria Hill did not like complications or coincidences. Complications meant something had gotten messy. Someone had exposed a massive human smuggling ring, near where three Avengers were currently. None of the rescued people knew who had rescued them, but the descriptions of a blond man, a redheaded woman who spoke Russian and Spanish, and an barrage of arrows matched said three Avengers perfectly. The situation had been made worse since the first FBI officer to arrive had caught one of the park rangers trying to convince the people in the semi to go back inside so he could chain them back up.

Feeling the weight of her position, Maria pulled up to the small house where said three Avengers were living and parked behind the SUV already in the driveway. Stepping out of the SHIELD-issue sedan, she knocked on the door. Silence met her first knock. Frowning, she knocked again.

“Be right there!” Steve called.

Reassured, Maria stood on the porch and waited. Her patience was rewarded a few minutes later when Steve pulled open the door. Maria’s eyes widened as she realized Steve looked…disheveled. His hair was askew, a lipstick print stained his collarbone, and his jeans were missing a belt. Realizing who his visitor was, he flushed in embarrassment.

“Sorry, Agent Hill,” he said, straightening unconsciously. “What can I do for you?”

“Come back to bed soon, Steve,” Clint called. “You can’t leave me alone to handle Natasha.”

Maria forced herself to focus. She knew Hawkeye and Black Widow were capable of distractions and misdirection. She would not fall victim to one of their schemes. “Am I to believe you, Hawkeye, and Black Widow have nothing to do with the hundred people who were found in a semi just outside the park?”

Steve looked shocked. “What hundred people, ma’am?” he asked. “Are they okay? Do you need me to do anything? I can get dressed –”

“No,” Maria held up a hand. “You can stay put. You three have done more than enough. You might be pleased to know you exposed that one of the park rangers was in on that human trafficking ring. I’ll want reports when you’re back, mind you, on how you figured it all out and what you did. In fact, I think you all are overdue for new orders. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.” She paused. “And Captain Rogers — if you want me to believe you are involved with Hawkeye and Black Widow, you should try harder.”

Steve frowned. “Why is that not believable?”

“Because you’re straight —” Maria faltered, seeing the look on Steve’s face.

“Not since I was old enough to know what love meant,” Steve said dryly. “Captain America might have that reputation, but I'm not that guy all the time.”

Maria realized her mistake. “How can I make up for sticking my foot into my mouth?” she asked.

“Get us on a plane back to New York tomorrow afternoon and make sure we were not here as far as that group of immigrants is concerned,” Steve countered. “SHIELD can take the credit as long as those people are safe.” 

“Done,” Maria said swiftly and turned to leave. She caught sight of Natasha and Clint converging on Steve as he shut the door and heard his laugh as they teased him about letting all the cold air into the cabin.


	10. Chapter 10

Natasha, Clint, and Steve waited until after they could no longer hear Maria’s car before collapsing onto the couch, grinning with combined relief and exhilaration.

“That went better than expected,” Natasha noted. In case Maria had stepped inside, Natasha had changed into a short satin nightgown to better bolster the fiction they were nowhere near the incident. “Maybe a little too easy.”

Steve shook his head slightly at her cynicism. “I’ll take it,” he told her and Clint. “Do you want to check to see if Maria’s gotten us new orders?”

Nodding, Natasha rose and headed upstairs to grab the laptop computer SHIELD had issued them. With SHIELD in the area, they would boost the signal, meaning she could take the computer out of its usual location in her bedroom. Walking down the stairs, she smiled as she saw the email with their orders, showing Maria had called it in as soon as she had gotten into her car. Computer in hand, Natasha moved to where Clint and Steve sat, waiting for her news.

“We need to be in Port Angeles at the base at 1300 tomorrow; we’re being sent back to SHIELD HQ in New York with orders to report in on what we found here. SHIELD will handle cleaning up the cabin, so we don’t have to worry about packing up the perishables, cleaning the linens, or vacuuming the cabin. Further mission orders pending on arrival,” she told Steve and Clint. “That means we have tonight. What did you want to do?”

“Make dinner,” Clint suggested. Unlike Natasha, he had gambled that Maria would not want to come in once she saw Steve, so he had changed out of his combat uniform into a clean pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeve t-shirt.

He glanced at Steve, who looked oddly nervous. “Unless you have other plans?”

“You said something about warming you up,” Steve noted.

“So I did,” Clint agreed. He studied the other man a moment. “But that’s not all you want.”

Steve took a deep breath before asking, “I’d like to be with both of you at the same time. Can we make that happen?”

Natasha glanced at Clint, surprised. “We thought you might not be comfortable with that.”

“It’s not something I’ve done a lot, but I like it,” Steve admitted. “I’m also hoping what we found here isn’t a one-time kind of thing, either.”

“I can’t promise I’ll always be available,” Clint warned him, “and I’m not making you promises I can’t keep. But I’d like to be your lover for as long as it works for us, but I have a few caveats. One is that I can’t admit that you’re my lover. It’s to our advantage that everyone thinks Natasha and I are lovers. The second is if you find someone else you want to be with, more committed to, or more openly involved – tell me, and we stop being lovers and stay friends.”

“Same with me,” Natasha agreed. “Does that work?”

Steve looked at them. “Yes, though it pains me to be your secret lover once we get back to the world. Makes me feel like I’m back to sneaking around.”

“Sorry,” Clint apologized. “But I don’t think the world is ready for you to declare yourself to be bi, even if anyone with the eyes to look at what you did for Sgt. Barnes and Agent Carter can see it.”

“That’s if they knew the unclassified truth,” Natasha noted.

Steve grimaced. “Yeah.” He exhaled heavily. “But I like being with both of you too much to want to give it up.” He looked at them. “If it gets to be too much of a hassle with scheduling, then let’s talk.”

Clint nodded. “Agreed.” He looked at Natasha, who echoed his word.

“As for both of us – did you want that now or after dinner?” Natasha asked.

Steve took the laptop out of her hands and set it on the coffee table. “I’m not hungry for food.”

Natasha feigned innocence. “Really?”

“Really.” Steve leaned forward and pulled her into his lap. He kissed her hungrily before rising to his feet.

Natasha put her legs around his waist and allowed him to carry her to his bedroom. Clint followed, grinning.

Once in the bedroom, Steve set Natasha gently on the bed, kissing her as he did so. Clint took advantage of their distraction to undress and pull condoms and lube out of the nightstand. He then helped Steve out of the jeans he wore as Natasha pulled off her nightgown and underwear. The clothes went into a pile in the corner of the bedroom before Steve and Clint joined Natasha on the bed.

“How do you want to do this?” Natasha asked Steve after kissing him again.

“Want to be in the middle,” Steve said, “as much as possible while you make me come multiple times. When I’m almost too tired to want any more, I want Clint to fuck me while I fuck you, Natasha. I don’t want to tell you what to do next; I want to feel you both.” He smiled as his lovers exchanged glances. “Think you can handle that?”

Though he had gotten used to hearing Steve’s blunt language in bed, this was something new. Steve had never surrendered his choice this way, so Clint needed confirmation. “You want to give yourself over to us?”

“Yes,” Steve agreed. “I don’t want to think about the people we rescued or what will happen when we get back to New York tomorrow. I want to live in this moment while I can.”

“And you’ll tell us if it’s too much?”

Steve kissed him. “Yes. You know what I like by now; I trust you.”

Awed by the statement, Clint swallowed hard. He knew he would pay for that absolute faith someday and hoped Steve’s anger at him would not destroy this relationship. Clint had a secret he was not about to reveal to Steve, not now, and never unless it was an emergency.

Aware of the thoughts circling through his head, Natasha looked at Clint and took charge. “Switch positions with me,” she directed Clint, who complied and moved from the left side of the bed to the right.

To Steve, she said, “I want you to lick me while Clint sucks you off. He and I will figure out what next from there, but we’ll make sure you only think about us, Steve.”

Steve kissed her. “Thank you.”

Natasha moved to straddle his face while Clint put a condom on Steve’s cock, stroking it. Clint needed the moment to settle his thoughts and refocus on the present. Bending his head, he took a deep breath before putting his mouth on Steve’s cock, wanting to give Steve what he wanted. Clint loved sucking cock, loved seeing how much he could use his tongue and mouth to drive his lover wild. Addicted to the way the other man reacted to the heat of Clint’s mouth, Clint put an arm across Steve’s hips to keep him from arching too much. Something about knowing it was Steve – Steve who was polite in public, who seemed to be the poster boy for straight, vanilla, and least likely to like having his cock sucked – added a level of spice to the experience.

He could hear Natasha encouraging Steve as he licked and nibbled on her pussy. Clint decided to distract Steve and used his free hand to caress Steve’s balls. A half-muffled whimper rewarded his efforts. Pleased by that response, Clint took more of Steve’s cock into his mouth and continued to caress his balls. It was not long before Steve shuddered through his first orgasm of the afternoon. Clint removed the filled condom, tossing it into the trash can they had set up next to the bed, and replaced it with a new one.

Steve took advantage of the break to focus on bringing Natasha to her first orgasm, holding her in place as she trembled with the force of her release. When Natasha’s release was over, she shifted position, kissing him, and tasting herself on him before breaking the kiss.

To Clint, she said, “Do what you want while I suck him off again. Steve, get on your hands and knees over me.”

Steve nodded and moved to fill her request as she laid down on the bed. Clint stole a kiss from Steve, pausing his movement. When Steve was in position, Clint then reached from behind and rubbed his nipples, telling Natasha, “Suck on his tits before you suck him off again.”

Steve made a small noise of anticipation, adding, “Please.”

Grinning, Natasha filled the request, lingering on each of Steve’s nipples as Clint rubbed the one she was not licking and sucking. Under their combined touch, Steve whimpered and shuddered, telling them that he was enjoying what they were doing. Hearing a note of ‘too much’ in the way Steve was whimpering, Clint stopped as did Natasha.

Steve panted, “Feels good but I can’t take much more.”

Clint caressed his back reassuringly and dropped a kiss on his spine. Natasha kissed Steve before moving down to suck his cock, which was already half-hard again.

“You like the way she’s sucking you, Steve?” Clint asked as he leaned over Steve. “Love the way she’s taking you deep?”

Clint could tell his words were adding to the flames of desire consuming them all from the way Natasha and Steve both trembled and moaned. Pleased by that response, Clint kissed and lick a trail down Steve’s back, loving it caused Steve to jerk and moan again. Clint did not stop until he sat on his haunches and licked Steve’s perineum and asshole.

“Natasha!” Steve cried, signaling his climax.

Natasha sucked Steve’s cock through his climax. When the last of his tremors had subsided, Natasha removed the condom and swapped it for a new one. Once she had done so, she looked at Clint.

“You want top or bottom?”

“Bottom,” Clint decided. “That way, we don’t crush you. Steve, sit up and turn around.”

Natasha nodded and handed Clint the lube and a condom. He put on the condom, then applied the lube to the condom, shivering as the touch reminded him how hard he was and how close he was to coming. Lube still in hand, he then moved into position behind Steve and laid down, telling Steve, “Kneel over me, facing the end of the bed.”

Clint spent the next few minutes preparing Steve’s ass as Natasha kissed and fondled Steve, distracting and ensuring he was hard again. Once Steve’s ass was open, Clint guided Steve into a kneeling position and onto his cock. Both Clint and Steve shuddered through the insertion, breathing hard as they became one. Once they had established a connection, Natasha pushed Steve to lay back on Clint and climbed onto Steve’s cock. It took the three of them few tries to get a rhythm going, but the result shot ecstasy through all.

Clint knew he would remember this moment for the rest of his life, even if they did it again. Nothing would replace the sound of Steve moaning both Clint’s and Natasha’s names as he found the down-and-up motion that connected him to them in a pleasure loop. The indelible sight of Steve clutching at Natasha as she rode him, the grip of Steve’s hand as he clung to Clint, the tight feel of Steve’s ass, and the weight of his lovers was soon too much for Clint. Orgasm, too long held at bay by the need to make Steve come multiple times, shot through Clint like a cannon.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” Clint groaned, and thrust up into Steve one last time.

Steve moaned, and his breath hitched as Clint’s climax triggered his orgasm. Natasha whimpered as she hit her peak a moment later.

Spent, the three lovers took a minute to lie in a heap before Natasha rose and carefully removed herself from the top of the pile. She dealt with Steve’s condom before he followed her example and removed Clint’s condom, tossing it into the trash.

Steve returned to the bed to cuddle Clint. After a brief hesitation, Natasha joined him, choosing to lie on Steve’s right side and hold him.

Steve kissed her, then Clint, thanking them both. It surprised neither of them when he fell asleep a few minutes later.

As one, they removed themselves from his embrace, mindful not to wake him, and headed upstairs to shower. Natasha let Clint attend to her, which she rarely let him do, showing something worried her.

“He loves us,” she noted quietly as Clint soaped her back.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed. “You knew that might happen.”

Natasha let out a breath. “Guess that means we have to be sure he doesn’t break with it.”

Clint half-smiled and wondered if Steve knew he had gained Natasha’s love and loyalty, which was precious. “As long as we don’t stop being clear about where he fits with us, we’ll be fine.”

Natasha nodded, and let Clint finish soaping her body. Once he had done so, she stepped into the spray to rinse and then returned the favor he had given her. “You going to tell him about Laura?” she asked.

Clint let out a breath. “Only that she is my girlfriend and she exists,” he compromised, and saw she understood. Unwilling to get into a discussion about his wife and children, who were a part of his life he kept off the books, Clint changed the subject. “How long do you think he’ll sleep?”

“Hour, tops,” Natasha said confidently. “We have enough ingredients for a stew and some bread. Sound good to you?” Satisfied with her work, Natasha set the soap on its tray, rinsed her hands, then stepped out of the shower so Clint could rinse off and she could dry herself.

“Works for me,” Clint agreed.

* * *

“You didn’t want to tell me you had a girlfriend before because why?” Steve asked Clint after dinner that evening while Natasha cleaned the dishes.

“Habit – it suits us for everyone to think Natasha and I are together. It means Laura can be safe and not be a potential target since few people know she exists.”

Steve frowned. “Laura knows about your relationship with Natasha?”

“Oh yeah,” Clint said fervently. “I don’t cheat on my lovers.”

“And you will tell her about me?”

“Of course,” Clint said. “She’s known I was bi since before we started dating.”

Looking relieved, Steve assured Clint, “I won’t tell anyone about Laura. If you run into any issues –”

Clint leaned over and kissed him. “You’ll be the first to know. Did you want to pack tonight?”

Steve shook his head. “It won’t take us that long, even if we have gained more things since we’ve been here. What do you say to spending the rest of the evening in bed and doing what we did this afternoon, only you and I put Natasha in the middle?”

Clint kissed him again. “I like the way you think.”

* * *

Steve was no fool. He could tell Clint was holding something back from him about Laura, but it was enough for the moment to know that she was someone Clint loved and who knew about his relationships. Steve could also tell Natasha likewise had secrets she was not willing to share with him. Until they told him they would no longer be lovers, Steve would make the most of the time he had with Clint and Natasha and take the love he could from it.

_The End_ 6/17/18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's been following this! I hope you've enjoyed it - and if so, please let me know. :-) I respond to all comments, including on 'the old stuff.'

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, constructive criticism, ~~speculation on what's to happen next,~~ and kudos are welcome! ~~I rarely post anything I don't finish, so please subscribe.~~


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